It's been raining hard and the sea is up. As I walked along the waterline, I saw notations marking the action of the ocean, and imagined the sea as composer, using its power and its subtlety to make marks orchestrating a symphony of the sea.
Continuo throughout: in which a didgeridoo plays notes of power and repetition and snare brushes on drums provide the swishing sounds of the waves rolling in.
In which flute, violin and xylophone shape the sound, and then oboe, viola and marimba join in to add substance.
The delicate traces of the sea linger along the tideline: the calligraphy of grass, and the more robust calligraphy of seaweed.
In which cello, oboe, clarinet, predominate, with occasional grace notes from the flute, and sonorous intrusions from the bass drum. This movement fades into near silence, with only the subdued sound of the continuo.
The sea leaves its less delicate traces where it meets sand: as it rolls in and retreats, the muddy traces of floodwaters make a filigree of lace.
Scherzo, in the style of Chopin
In which the music gives tragic voice to the fate of creatures of the sea caught up in storms. This could perhaps be choral, offering alternating voice to jelly fish and shearwater.
In which the symphony reaches a full-orchestra crescendo and then fades into a quietness where strings predominate.
All the complexities of the ocean settle and simplify into the calm place where the creek and the sea join together.