Flapping black crows ascend and descend, waiting.
A new king will tumble from the sky and take his rightful seat.
Until the tide bears him away, leaving the crows to wait again.

The sand is soft and crumbly. The view extends toward the horizon. Sky and sea meet, but in the foreground, the beach below sparkles. It feels so nice to walk along this edge and the warmth of the sand beckons me to go down closer to the shore as others have. There were many who showed up early. I guess I'm late to the party. Well, I'll venture down to the beach and enjoy the sand awhile before it's time to go to the banquet. I've been dragging my heels on the banquet ---all the stuffiness and posing---all for what ? Just so we're seen properly proselytizing our dear so called "leader". We all know he's just a figurehead. Putting him on a pedestal (We even built a throne!) How we all love the ritual and how disingenuous. We all want to be seen doing the good work, falling in line. Just as soon as the banquet's over, you can be sure everyone we'll strip the black uniforms, and head to the shore, toward the sand, so warm on the feet. The sand is all that counts, so warm on the feet!