crepescule

A fish dances briefly above the water before diving back beneath the surface. Another joins. Then, a third. They beckon the late afternoon to turn to evening and with it come their buggy food hovering just above the water trap.

A sailboat languishes in the middle of the lake, abandoned by the non-committal wind; no doubt coaxing any breeze to come swirling by, and kiss the expectantly raised sail.

Then the soft breeze rises signaling the oncoming dinner hour as the sun sets it sight on the mountain behind which it will gracefully dip in due time.  All afternoon it has sent its rays attempting to penetrate my pasty white skin. My hospital tan, a carefully cultivated porcelain white, has rebuffed the sun all afternoon; sending the rays flying back from whence they came. 

My evening shower leaves no sign of an afternoon spent in the company of sand and a book. Just the skin wrapped around cells constructed to make me functional, but today have simply lounged around scoffing at the thought of moving in any meaningful fashion.

I’ve sat here before, on this piece of beach with the waves lapping at my toes. It always sends me out on the next opportunity and welcomes me back when I’m weary and through with adventuring.  In the silence of my own mind sometimes I am held prisoner and sometimes I am freed. Regardless, I stand at the water’s edge watching the rhythmic lunge of the waves upon the sand and am comforted by knowing this dance of mountains and sun and sand and water will continue on even as my world crumbles to pieces.

This place, where sometimes I am too afraid to breathe for fear I will miss the moment, will gather me up in days to come and send me off once again.