Twas brillig… and then it wasn’t. Distant horns sounding out in the Inlet as giant ships plied their way through the newly formed mists. The Village was the center of a quiet haven…
A wraithlike watchman safeguards the admission to the inner bay:
In time the mists began to recede:
In the hotel’s gardens, dewdrops delineate a spider’s snare:
On a marina breakwater, a Great Blue contemplates in a reflective pose:
All is well and quiet in the inner bay…
