The pier tugs at the beach as it reaches for the waves. A warm breeze taunts the palms as they look down at the rebellious sand being sent back to the beach from which it escaped. Tablecloths are being laid and napkins folded. Eggs are aligned, tomatoes are sliced, and coffee is brewing.
The clock watches stoically as dawn births morning. Its faces stare unwaveringly at the eaters of the eggs and the voyagers of the sand. Its hands dispassionately tango to the rhythm of time; in just a few more ticks beach towels will unfurl and stressed bodies will relax.
Time is change. Night will become day, sand will return to the sea, footprints in the beach will fade, and day will become night. But twelve is always the top dog on the clock and Fort Myers Beach is a favorite place to start the day.