That post is doing its best impression of a lighthouse.

The water lapped gently against the shore as if whispering secrets only it could understand. A solitary post stood upright in the shallows, its white top catching what little light filtered through the overcast sky. The horizon blurred where land met water, boats resting like scattered thoughts in the distance. I found myself transfixed by the rhythm of the waves; they moved as though they had no destination but still carried purpose. The air felt heavy with moisture, yet it wasn’t oppressive—it was grounding, like a reminder that even cloudy skies have their own kind of beauty.