Jammy Doggs stepped into sea and waded out, the pull of the waves sweet against his legs.
He bent to feel the water between his fingers, test the temperature against the eighty years of sea wisdom he held in his heart.
The gentle fog rolled across the waves, cool and lovely.
The white sand shone below the clear water, a school of minnows darting this way and that, moving as one.
He walked on, his feet raising clouds of sand smoke trailing behind him.
The cool water lapped against his waist and started the three shocks: first to the groin, second to the chest, and finally to the head.
Then he was swimming, free as any fish or dolphin, though not as skilled.
He drifted down to the bottom, turned to look up through the water at the moment the sun burned through the fog.
This beauty caused his soul to sing as it always had.