A lazy Suwannee / carries small ripples westward / the moss sways gently — Abhishek Mukherjee

24 May 6:30 PM or so

The Suwannee valley has an uncanny way of suspending me in contrasting moods. I am sitting at the edge of a well worn dock. I watch small ripples form on the surface of the water not too far under my dangling bare feet. The breeze that creates these tiny ripples does not reach me. All is motionless above the water. All is motionless around me. Not a stir. I feel weightless and almost breathless in this absence of moving air. No sooner than I am about to lose my faith in the certainty of gravity and in wind do I hear a distant rustle above the tree tops. I hear the rustle approach me, a coming of a breeze, a promise being fulfilled. A light breeze finally reaches me and engulfs me within. It is effortless and unhurried. The breeze gently touches the soles of my feet, grazes my arms and percolates through my hair. I feel connected to my environment once again. I feel grounded.

And then, like a passing season, the breeze is gone. A new void is created. I wait. The cycle repeats.

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