Monday, September 21, 2015

9.21.15 The kind of thing that could save you



At 6:30 this morning, my beloved went off with a good friend to Boston, and all at sixes and sevens, I grabbed the pup and slipped on my flip flops, arms akimbo in a polarfleece, and drove down to the Eagle Sanctuary Road, to lose myself in the coming day. The skies were pink and blue striped, and we kept walking down the chilly dirt road to who-knows-where, though I realized the river would be down there somewhere, and I was restless inside and out, needing the leg-stretching and the mind-emptying and the deep-breathing, as did the muscular Shepherd, so on we went.         
                                Past the farmer's kitchen garden, full of tall Kales of all varieties, and delicate Sweet Annie with its' aromatic miniature seeds and flowers in the morning breeze. The mounds of squash waiting pickup, and the cow cornfields just about all harvested, farming having no time for folly.
                                 Down a curve into the river valley woods we went, down a small hill and into the overgrowth, its darkness and deep green such beauty on such a day. We hung a right, and caught sight of the waters, bringing a big smile to my face, I'll tell you, as we approached a wooden staircase leading neatly down to the beach.
                                 Course, Dante was afraid of the weirdo stairs , we got down them and it was all about the water, racing back and forth, the wet sanding giving the pup feet delicious purchase.
                                  Across the way, one enormous white bird, not an Egret, took flight upstream. The waters rippled and lapped the shore from the wind pressing by, the colors of the skies the kind of thing that could save you, on a bad day, and set you right on a good enough morning.

                                  So I stood and he stood, breathing deeply the clean delicious air, feeling the breeze in our hair and fur, watching the waters pressed upon the shore, and all of life unwound and settled and my racing heart grew still.

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