Surfers are different from normal people

While normal people are tying down furniture

 And boarding up windows

Surfers are tightening their fins

And waxing their boards

While normal people are checking the weather

And tracking the hurricane

Surfers are watching the surf reports

And tracking the swells

As the families crawl inside

And lock their doors

The streets are still and silent

The shrieking wind and dark skies are all that is visible

The surfers come out

From the back allies and the abandoned roads

They flood in

Wetsuits pulled down to the waist

Boards under the arm

Bare feet against the already wet pavement

They emerge from the landscape

Calling one another with a wave and a smile

They enter like otters into the water

It is as if they were sent into their natural habitat

They fly over the waves and perch gracefully on their boards

Using the ocean as a canvas

They paint

Using their boards against the crystal sea

They carve

As they fabricate their art

Looks of pure joy euphoria spread across their faces

And the bliss extends to the whole body

Until each and every capillary is filled with a sense of utter ecstasy

They surf