04/12/2026
Two geese bellowing 300 yards away.
The water between us will flow this divided country, into the sea.
A couple. Together for life swims by. The quiet mother. The father with his brazenly green markings.
This rock I rest on. Who knows how long it has resided on this shore line. Or long before this was a shoreline perhaps.
The ebb and flow of this ancient river’s path. The floodplain defined. Lined with trees and debris from floods.
A chaotic tangle of old life and new.
One storm.
All replaced.
To become the silt of the Louisiana delta.
Although this water has a steady current.
Heavy. Powerful. Pulled by the gravity of this home planet.
It appears still. The only evidence of downstream flow is the occasional branch.
The horizontal shifts of light I observe. The slow creep of floatation peering up between the shuffle of light and movement. A small black hulk in this overcast.
The sound of a jet. And geese.
Three people. An older couple and a young man. They stand at the edge. An apparently intelligent conversation about erosion and shoreline. The benefits of hillside vegetation I suppose.
Sand
Leaves
Pebbles
Styrofoam.
Blue sneaking into view.
Where I sit the river and sky appear to move slowly from left to right. An almost bright blue now defining the edges. Highlight the downstream flow. The water blue in places, dark gray in others.
Rippling highlights.
