It is quiet.
Sitting here.
In the kayak.
On the lake.
The evening sun, low in a deep blue sky. Cotton puffy clouds hanging there. Trees reflecting off the glass smooth water.
A fish jumps and ripples ride to every shore.
Buzzards soar lazily.
The air,
Comfortably cool and still.
My friend, in her boat,
As reluctant to move as I.
A gentle stroke of the paddle and a slow turn. Water drops fall from the blade in slow motion,
sending their own minute ripples across the lake.
A bull frog croaks.
Locusts sing.
A Goldfinch flies home.
Soft voices of a man and girl sitting on the nearest bank - sharing
a moment.
We, part of their scenery - they, ours.
All these things,
Taken together,
The only world - the eternal now.
With imagination I could leave this world.
But I choose to stay.
Here.
In perfect reality.
