Saturdays should be spent outside. At least for a few hours, especially if it’s 60 degrees in February, even if it’s windy and doesn’t feel like 60. Thursday’s snow made the walking trail a muddy bog, so Emotikin decided to walk the rails. Bold, dangerous, carefree, adventurous. That’s what this Saturday called for.
Call it the culvert, call it a river, call it a place to jump rock to rock, soak up the sun on a still-cold stone, daring the icy water to swirl too close.
Sea grass, beach grass, duck nest? Perching here is warmer than the rocks.
If Emotikin thoughts were louder than words, what blue-sky-sunny optimism might be heard on this mid-winter concrete beach?
Avalanche danger? Solid slush. South face slope still knows what season we’re in. Wishing for spikes on my feet, skis, or a sled.
What were they thinking, this crew who placed the stones in the concrete berm? Did they notice the fossils in this rock and laugh, wondering whether anyone would ever notice this fine art installation?
What layers of life do we each have inside, secret saplings we grew beyond, now seasoned and strong?
Balance in the wind, poised on a pier, invisible cape, courageous.
What if when you landed, there was a sign saying what year you’d arrived?
Saturday. Sunny. Signs. Sings. Silly. Soul-happy. Seriously.