dunes on the move
knee high sand storm
low tide far out
watching the tide
only 2 of them walking
Walking out to the place the rescue truck waits. A little rise on dry sand that the tide has abandoned these last months. Past the binoculars, the fat tyres, the hoard of coiled rope. Past the red flags, the rescue flares, the beacon.
A deer made the news. Took fright at the wide expanses of beach. Ran far out to sea, sprinting through shallows.
They said rescue services need to be cut back here. That would leave this vast beach unwatched. But a deer has delayed the decision.