If you happen to walk through town in Cannon Beach, Oregon, you'll see a pair of trees that have always fascinated me. They are hung all over with buoys of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. I like to reflect on where these buoys have been. I wonder what storms and waters, what ships and seamen each have known. But now, their traveling days are over. They hang together in these trees, reminiscing, I fancy, on voyages past. I'm sure they're pleased to be among friends. But I wonder whether they don't yearn for the sea, to ride once more the salty waves, exposed to sea and sky, with miles of air above them and leagues of ocean below.