Monday, August 13, 2007


Evening breeze and the languid sound of a heron moving somewhere along the shoreline in darkness, the wild river singing over the rocks and out into the lake, the creaking of the gnarled cedars which grow high up and out of the cliffs above my head.

Silly me, I'm not adrift at all. I'm just floating gently along here — like an old wooden boat which has slipped away from its moorings and is moving out into the center of the lake at sunset — like a water lily climbing serenely toward the surface of the beaver pond — like a fallen leaf turning round and round on the river — like an evening ripple dancing its way into existence and spreading out in slow circles until it kisses the shore.


K Allrich said...

Hola Cate!

Just thought I'd stop by and let you know you're in my thoughts tonight - much like "an evening ripple dancing its way into existence..."

Beautiful, as always.

love and namaste,


julia said...

What a lovely and thought-provoking post

"like an old boat that has slipped it's mooring"

Precisely how I feel these days

Anonymous said...

Your picture this day moves and inspires me...and calls to me.

Much love to you, dear one,
Prairie Star