I forget how dark the water is early in the morning. It comes with the cold, that cold that seeps first through the skin. Put it out of mind. Breath, calm, slow, full.

Whoosh, slosh, sight, pull. Whoosh, slosh, sight, pull, breath.

Surely, I can touch ground. Damn, not yet. This lost the air of “casual morning swim” some yards back. No, some hundred yards if you were honest.

Whoosh, sight, slosh, pull. Slosh, pull, sight. Whoosh, whoosh, breath, damn it.

Fingers brush slime, weeds… fish… bottom. Yes, the last. A struggle upright. The world shifts and my eyes missed the memo. Vision still swimming.

Knee deep. It sounded shallow - until you try to run through it. A clock ticking behind your eyes. Counting to the hour. Until you need to lift each foot, or drag them.

Tips and toes, through the sand to shore.