As soft ripples calmly reflect from the ageing, ever present sun, day time slowly fades, along with the hopes and fears of another day. As I watch the delicate balance of nature perform it's daily ritual, my mind begins to follow it's pattern of renewal. 

peace among the waving, green palms that greet the warm, orange sunset. Small, wooden boats delicately resting on the calm water. As I gaze, brushes of green watercolour paint surround the horizon with hills competing for prowress and elegance. Soon enough, fluorescent, white lights will reflect from the harbours concrete sidewalk, waiting patiently for the evening to unfold, as rippling clouds drift beyond sight and into the encroaching darkness. Small boats sit calmly, like a pensioner resting with a newspaper. Birds hover and swoop, but carefully; as not to disrupt the rhythm of nature. 

Soon, the palms will slowly dissapear behind the moonlight sky and the boats will sleep until daybreak— until abruptly being woken by local fisherman. The hills will remain stoic. But deep inside, the nests of birds who spent all day entertaining the harbour will be occupied. Street lamps will retire for the evening, darkness will close in on the sidewalk as locals return to their houses. The pensioner pours two glasses of red wine, placing them on the small, oak sidetable as clouds above decide whether to remain in darkness or slowly fade towards the next horizon.

Sunrise soon appears and the pensior rises alongside the sun, the clouds, the boats, the palms and the birds. Natures beauty can be seen, it can be felt, or it can be ignored or left alone, neither appearing or dissapering. And as the pensioner quietly yawns and empties one of the wine glasses, he decides to live in beauty once more.