false stars of sailboat lights

Why am I wasting time walking aimlessly across the sand? I could be writing by moonlight. With Lisa at the shore I walk to the cement to sit but an object being jostled by the waves catches my attention. It's a horseshoe crab turned upside down. Glasses go on so I can inspect the legs for life but the gentle lifting and lowering is a product of buoyancy, not instinct. The smell of rotting seaweed sends me off to find another writing spot. The bench at the edge of the sanded area of the park looks safe enough.