The tightly-packed, fine-grained sand was shiny in the wash of the surf and the light of the rising sun. You could see the reflection of the clouds. They looked like little white lambs moseying across the blue sky.
Do lambs mosey? Never mind. I digress. Let’s go talk to the happy little clams, okay? We’ll find them a few steps to the east, give or take a step or two, depending on the height of the tide.
It’s hard to believe they could be happy, buried in the sand like that. Let’s find out.
“Are you happy?” we ask.
“Yes, we’re happy,” they reply cheerily.
“But how can that be?” we wonder.
“Hey,” they explain patiently, “the sun came up again today, surf’s up, and we’re living at the beach. What’s not to be happy about?”
“Indeed,” we muse, newly enlightened, as we mosey on towards the pier.
Just ahead, a seal body-surfs out of the sea. He looks barely alive. “Is he okay?” I wonder.
Then he stretches and yawns as if to say, “Oh man! This is the life!”
I agree with him one hundred percent.