I put in for a short trip, a mind clearing trip, a reminder of what lies outside the walls.
There is some wind and for a while, when I am in the east marsh, it is strong and in my face. Wind barely shows on the surface of the water in the east marsh, nothing more than ripples no bigger than those that the dabbling of fingers causes. Wind, in the marsh, is told by the cattails, bending all in the same direction and twisting in their wind driven flutter, slapping and rubbing against each other to create the soft rustle.
And then, whatever it is that binds up inside me is gone, and it is time to go.
There is some wind and for a while, when I am in the east marsh, it is strong and in my face. Wind barely shows on the surface of the water in the east marsh, nothing more than ripples no bigger than those that the dabbling of fingers causes. Wind, in the marsh, is told by the cattails, bending all in the same direction and twisting in their wind driven flutter, slapping and rubbing against each other to create the soft rustle.
And then, whatever it is that binds up inside me is gone, and it is time to go.
1 comment:
Your project - the documentary - sounds great, Scott. Looking forward to seeing it.
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