Before dawn

This morning we took our dogs for their Sunday walk along the boardwalk in front of Kommetjie lighthouse. It was not quite sunrise and the air was a balmy 16 degrees. A waning moon hung over the sea, its bright whiteness dappling the unruffled surface, smooth as a silken sheet.
 Behind us, our flock of sacred ibis, 200-strong, snaked across the dawn sky, the leader far in front, two straggling pelathons behind and a lonely back-marker bringing up the rear.  Their flight followed the contours of the Slangkop headland, taking advantage of the lifting air currents.
 Two early surfers bobbed on their boards at the Outer Kom, which was promising some big surf on the rising tide.  The reef breaks made no sound as the offshore drift of air took it out to sea.  It was like watching a silent movie, with Table Mountain as a backdrop.
 A little way out to sea, a whale sounded, treating us to a lazy wave of a tail before sinking below the surface.
 Sound too good to be true?  No, if anything, it was better - words don't do it justice.
  As I write this, the sun has replaced the moon, the wind has lifted the sea into little white horses and people are going about their business.  It's just another day, but I didn't miss the best part.