My time machine, a worn camo green canoe, transports to dimensions beyond imagination - back-country wilderness areas where nature in harmony is the whole show. Paint-brush in hand and asphalt left behind in another world, we venture into the untouched majestic marsh. The flourish of dynamic living splendor conjures humble reverence while possible encounters with wildlife requires respectful vigilance. The word ‘enchanting’ does not say enough. Water, sky, plants, trees, birds & critters - all more 'there'; fluctuating like mythological shape-shifters alive with colors and sounds.
The sun dips below the trees and explodes across sky and water with colors beyond description. The heavens transform from radiant hues to silvery twilight then shades of grays and blacks summoning angelic white egrets home to their cypress rookeries. Night-shift wildlife appear with startling boldness. Stars blaze across the Milky Way close enough to touch, transforming all creation to its equally spectacular inverse. Reluctantly our shallow draft boat weaves its way back out, leaving until next time that exquisite hidden place to the humble swamp creatures and spirit beings who may chance to linger there.
Years ago a college counselor reviewed my aptitude tests and advised a major in art. Being young, pig-headed and obliviousness to ‘art’ I failed to take even one art class. Missed opportunities or self-discovery extravaganzas? Things have a way of coming full circle and perhaps for the best.
Michael
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'Whispers of the Wet Earth'
The marsh, a magician, transforming the light,
From dawn's misty promise, to whispers of night.
Each blade, each creature, a spell softly cast,
A vibrant enchantment, forever to last.
author unknown
