Mist rose from the river this morning. The sun's rising cast the early light. In the cool of the raveen, some apparition illuminates, lingering and still. As stumbling upon deer, cautiously frozen, awaiting my next move. It loomed above the moving mirrored surface. Silently hovering. The constant rush over rocky river bed below fills all the space in my ears. The damp air smells of wood and earth, hints of cedar. It strikes some soothing chord within me. I close eyes and breathe the verdant essence of lush loam and lichen. The sounds of life force rushing its watery path. No ranger am I, but I feel inside that part of me has been here through my eternity. Like some ancient spirit of the forest that forgot its home. My fingers push through the moss and feel it's sponge. My feet through the grass and gravel, sand between my toes. No street can give me, no buildings strike awe, no home or garden holds the wonder, of the trails I've followed along.
Beautiful! I can actually imagine myself near a river bank...this is refreshing