Peace.

Written some time this year…

Mr. Moon, by Purtsi


I stand out on a pier which stretches out from the garden of a house I will probably never return to and look out onto a lake.

The rains have begun – it poured in fits and starts the entire trip here, like a sputtering shower. Above me, the clouds keep their tears at bay for now but they are flushed and angry and I know there will be a downpour soon. Not the best weather for the beach, but for some reason, I prefer it this way.

The lake laps up between the concrete slats of the pier, licking my sandy toes and inviting me in. It is hot, humid and I long to slip into the inky water and wash off the sweat of the day, but I don’t. The lake has always made me nervous. I feel as if it is hiding secrets from me that it will never tell. Still, it flirts and I flirt back, bending down to graze its surface with my fingers. The water heaves underneath my touch, responding. Continue reading Peace.