The One About The Old Man Dancing

An old man stood on the cliff path, his arms outstretched, the wind in his teeth. He said to the froth below: "If I don't do it myself, someone else will just do it badly."
People passed him and were curious, some were annoyed that the old man was standing there like that; joggers, dog-walkers and sight seers.
When he jumped they gasped, and watched him flap and career, a rhythm of the waves, rushing and dancing like a man half his age.
When he was all cleaned up I passed the place where he stood, and wondered who the tattered, brown flowers were for, and when the rain would stop.