Water Place

Imagine a forest dry as can be. Pine needles carpet the floor. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. The path follows a stream so small that when crossing it, the tops of your shoes don’t get wet.

Imagine the path ends at a rock wall. That the ground is suddenly green and spongy. That a thin stream of water pours singing from a sheer and narrow canyon. That a pool of water reflects sun.

Oh, these wandering ways and what they reveal. This land that I will never fully know despite a life spent cradled in its arms.

~::~

I’ll be away from this space a bit more in the long summer days ahead. Time swinging in the hammock, writing poems for my own pleasure, nursing a mint tea and apple juice popsicle. I’ve still got plenty to say, sure. But somehow, it doesn’t seem to need saying quite so badly.

I hope you’ll come by and visit once a week or once a month–whenever your own hammock swinging and popsicle slurping can spare you. No doubt something profound will happen here soon. Though topping our discovery of this waterfall will be hard to do.

In the meantime, enjoy your days and the things they offer.

See you soon, friends. See you soon.

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