The Huntress’ narrow prow cuts through darkness,
The only sound a plashing single paddle.
Destination known, she’s grateful to see nothing
Below the river’s surface. Continue reading
canoe
Sunday Morning
I lift my paddle for a moment, hearing but not noting the drip of water that slides off its smooth, blond curve. My canoe slices through the morning cool, bisecting and self-healing the waters as I pass. Below the dark water, silent lake grass caresses sand and small, secret pebbles. Continue reading
Light At the End of the Tunnel
Source: Cypress swamp near Caddo Lake, NE TX. Erich Schlegel (08/08/2009)
Dipping her paddle expertly, Sara struggled against the increasingly muscular pull of the current. The sun rose, set, and rose again, unnoticed under the moss-choked cypress trees that canopied the dark creek. Continue reading
The Talisman
Photo by Yuliya on Pexels.com
She held the rock to her lips. Copper and silver shone where her fingers caressed.
For a moment, Gichi-gami rolls beneath this secure Virginia town. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 