The soft, pink clouds hang over the distant horizon.
The glazed water gently rolls towards the beach.
A breeze-less, tranquil, tropical morning.
A man in a punt moves over the unruffled surface.
You can see that he has used a punt before
By the way he raises the long, wooden pole
And drops it noiselessly into the water, close to the craft.
His companion looks away towards the open sea.
Maybe it’s the coastal freighter that has caught her eye,
Moving hull-down in the far distance.
Maybe she is dreaming of a long, slow voyage
To hot, humid and exotic ports in other seas,
Just puttering from place to place, no rush, no reason;
Just the dream of an idle moment.

White ibis peck for muluscs in the fine, white sand.
A brown pelikan dives, bill-first, into the still water,
Submerging momentarily as it snaps up prey.
Spilling water from its throat-pouch, it swallows the catch
And takes off again, leaving the sea as if nothing had happened.
It is tranquil here, that is, until the speedboats appear.

(Robert Hanrott, 2015)

To espouse Epicureanism is to espouse peace of mind. Easier said than done sometimes!