A late December walk on the beach, feet exposed to sand and snow and sea, fixes just about anything.

I found a live pipefish on the edge of the sea today. I tossed the writhing critter back into the surf, saw its silhouette in a wave just before it broke, swimming along the surface, then saw it no more.

Every walk on the beach is different, every walk reveals something new, every walk renews the human animal that houses my mind, that is my mind.

There is nothing abstract about a tiny fish tossed at your feet on a December beach. No truths to be revealed, no alliances to build, no money spent.

Just a fish on the wet sand, now cupped in my hands, now swimming in the crystal green crest of a wave highlighted by a late December sun, then nothing.

I have never seen a bored child by the ocean's edge.

How do I bring that back to class?

Both pictures ours, taken today, the shell on the Atlantic, the setting sun on the Delaware Bay.