I woke up hearing the galloping of the lake. I pictured mermaids riding high on the crests of the white caps. I swore I heard laughter like bells and songs. I listened, eyes closed, hoping to hear my name called. What bit of a person can lasso that kind of power?
I watch grasses wave and dip. Is there a conversation going on? How does sand and rock hold a great lake?
Then there is the miracle of walking the shoreline, listening to the sounds, like a thousand satin dresses hurrying to the ball.
My hair whips my face, my wide legged pants snap against my legs. Seagulls dive and screech in delight or in dismay.
I pick up stones that look like a queen’s jewel, stones that have been tumbled for eons.
With each trill, each pounding, each bluster, my sack of knots becomes undone and I almost become one with the lake. Great bursts of laughter ring out and I realize that’s me!