At the Sea-Side
By Robert Louis Stevenson, 1850–1894

When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup
In every hole the sea came up
Till it could come no more.

I was feeling under the influence of a warm summer afternoon at the shore, and dreamed I was disguised as the water, shells and creatures all around me.

This is the second seasonal self portrait of a series. My first was of spring.

We had a wild ride with hurricane Irene here on the east coast this weekend. Time to dry out now!