It was a fine September afternoon, and although the south-westerly wind felt cold, the sun was bright and the sea was full of colour. Algy decided to fly over to a spot which he especially liked – a tiny beach on the headland, which was better suited to the scale of a fluffy bird than the big beaches across the bay – and he perched there on a rock, watching the ripples wash backwards and forwards across the pale sand as the tide came in. From time to time, a shiny silver head emerged from the water, not far from his perch, and a seal smiled at him for a few moments with the light flashing off its wet skin, before it dived again and continued to explore the underwater beds of seaweed.

Wavelets Make Perpetual Music at Algy’s Feet

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After the alarms and excursions of the fire, Algy felt in need of a very much wetter and more tranquil environment. He sat quietly on a low rock at the edge of the loch, and watched the water rippling in the evening light.

          I stand, as evening shadows fall,
          And marvel at the matchless scene,
          While wavelets make, with rhythmic beat,
          Perpetual music at my feet.

[From Evening on Lake Como by John Lawson Stoddard.]