i remember the river as being rather quick moving for this time of year, granted i had never been to that particular part before though knowing most of the shore around the area i assumed it would all be similar in depth and flow.
what little summer was left is only noticable in the last standing green around the base of trees behind me clinging to every bit of water beneath them, as if preparing for the long freeze that inevitably is to come leaving the earth more sublte white than brown.
most of the time, the land looks permantly settled for winter. The prairies rarely look a shade over gold, sometimes changing hue only after a decent spring rain. However the subtleties in nature’s change keep drawing closer, I , ceasing the search for reasoning and reputable answers for the foibles and troubles of a considerably adapt well cultivated life. To live like the water lives; to breathe as the branches breathe.
the allure of a place in nature comes from deeply complex places in ones soul; a planted seed. i find it rather complementing the ever swaying roles of earth – that also, by day break, I happen to find the same in me. now a growing seed. And when night falls over this part of the earth a brighter sky reveals timeless crystalline passing, and im left standing where i am, finding nothing the matter with an afternoon spent clearing space around the Byzantine conduit that is my brain.
the air a little more clean, the rocks a little more rounded than down stream, my kness and hands planted firmly on earth returning for a moment,