Off a rock, somewhere near treeline, a pair of feet dangle in the sharp, crisp clear water of a lake. They see stars and storms, the sun and sheer rock walls. They'll stay there, lingering always a moment too long, forever risking safe passage home. In the winter they'll dance in snow, in the spring amongst wildflowers, lady pink and bee yellow. Inevitably, when from behind the mountain thunder shatters the cloudless sky, they'll shake themselves awake and attempt a quick dash down. But when the storm passes and the sun shines through the lake's wind-blown ripples to trace shadows on the pebbles below, they'll always find themselves there, dangling.
at January 7, 2008 4:55 PM