Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Went for a walk, the other day. The kind of aimless, leisurely strolls one reads about but rarely actually devotes time to. Followed a new trail around the lake.
All rain-softened, seductive, damp to the touch. Tangerine mushrooms blooming obscenely out of rotted bark and mossy ground. Essence of rain-laden clouds sighed on still green waters. Made my way to a fallen tree, half immersed in the greens of the lake. Dug the view, walked further out, balance-beam sitting on the log in the lake, surrounded by greens and greys. Stayed with it. Sat with it. It didn’t move for me.
Walked away, reluctantly, carefully- then briskly. Determinedly. This was not it. This was not the one, for me. Much as I thought it might be. Wanted it to be. I saw those bubbles deep beneath the surface, stood by as they bubbled up, shot through, burst and broke the surface. Cool evening breeze carries birdsong and quiet. New trails and truths await elsewhere. Not this one.