As evening slipped into its darker shades, I caught sight of a solitary crane making his way along the shore—this time not wading through the water, but walking gracefully atop the delicate crest of a tiny lapping wave. The sky had deepened into late-evening blues, with heavy clouds gathered across the horizon. Behind them, the moon pressed forward with a muted glow, casting a wide, shimmering streak of light across the darkened sea.

The crane moved with quiet assurance, his long legs tracing the edge of the surf as though the faint rise of each gentle wave had been crafted just for him. The water around him was nearly black, yet that broad ribbon of moonlit reflection illuminated his silhouette, giving the moment an intimate, almost sacred stillness.

He never paused—just continued on, gliding in perfect rhythm with the soft incoming tide. It felt like a private, unhurried procession, a creature entirely at home in the hush that settles when day finally releases its hold.

I stood at the shoreline watching him, the two of us sharing that quiet border between evening and night. The beach, the muted sky, the soft silver path on the water, and this elegant companion—together they formed a moment worth keeping exactly as it unfolded: a simple, perfect moonlight stroll.