Near the tideline on sandy beaches strange marking make strange patterns. This is the work of the scribbler. His small staccato movements are a constant reality among the changing moods and colors of the beach:
...the sandpiper...
He is a scribbler.
All day he twit-twits
up the beach, down the beach,
scribbling in the sand.
The special life of summertime unfolds around the scribbler. Young children come with their pails and shovels, old men walk in the sand, and sailboats plane the waves. Throughout the day, the beach gracefully yields up its abundance to those who know what to do with it.
George Mendoza and Robert Quackenbush have together created a tone poem out of ocean, sand, air, sun, and wind.
Near the tideline on sandy beaches strange marking make strange patterns. This is the work of the scribbler. His small staccato movements are a constant reality among the changing moods and colors of the beach:
...the sandpiper...
He is a scribbler.
All day he twit-twits
up the beach, down the beach,
scribbling in the sand.
The special life of summertime unfolds around the scribbler. Young children come with their pails and shovels, old men walk in the sand, and sailboats plane the waves. Throughout the day, the beach gracefully yields up its abundance to those who know what to do with it.
George Mendoza and Robert Quackenbush have together created a tone poem out of ocean, sand, air, sun, and wind.