Klaxon

 The weather service posted dire warnings all day. 

My phone awoke unbidden with a klaxon (from the Ancient Greek verb klazō, "I shriek) and a robotic oracle's voice raising the alarm, retreat to the the basement or an inner wall. Then the air raid siren sounded a tornado warning, a sighting? I sat in the dark in front of the windows with a glass of blood red wine listening to the rain.

A Father's Day equinox. 

Retirement is not yet a second childhood but a second adolescence,  seeking a path a system of values.

I left the beach walking west into the sunset smiling blissfully. I saw a large man crossing the street, coming at me, pushing a baby carriage. I wasn't wearing my glasses, the sun was in my eyes, I never saw his face but he gave me a high-five as we passed each other. I assume it was my friend from the beach, talking on the phone, with his new son.

I walked north in the lake at dawn, in about 3-4 feet of water, maybe 8 or 10 yards from where the limestone riprap formed the shore, hiding the low buildings beyond, and then I saw, standing on a boulder that had tumbled out into the water a Great Blue Heron, my spirit animal familiar, a rare event that always inspires me. After observing it, unmoving, both of us, for some time, I realized there was a second Great Blue standing and blending into a block on shore. A miracle! Two Herons! After several minutes, I think, I saw another, half the distance from me. I felt that this was a blessing on my efforts to moderate my evenings, wake up early, and swim at dawn.

The next day, I was again successful at getting in the lake at about dawn. This time I looked up and saw a flock of 9 Great Blue Herons. I had never seen more than 3 together and I've lived in the same place for nearly 60 years. I didn't know they flocked.

The next day I slept in with a hangover.