Here is a black and white breakwater photo I took in the Bahamas, off Great Abaco. These man-made structures are designed to mimic the appearance of shoals, but their job is to protect the coast from high-energy waves and storms. The pitted rocks stretch diagonally across the sea, from right to left, like a bridge over calm waves. The sky is strewn with a delicate mixture of clouds; my favorite being the wispy cirrus in the upper right that looks like a fishbone or a feathery arrow. Between the rugged rocks and soft sky, the ocean appears wrinkly, almost silken, leading to a distant line of shore. The tinest sailboat drifts on the right, facing left.

Standing before this clutch of serenity, I couldn’t help but wonder: what stories does each rock hold? Every dip, crack, and dent becomes a word. From all angles, different pages emerge. Yet, all we can read is on the surface. What dwells deeper within or beneath the tides? An ocean of libraries. These thoughts inspired another haiku in my travel journal.

clouds shape narrative
shoal rock tales
form a library