Dark waters

Being loved by one who understands my stranger needs
there were no questions asked
nor fears expressed.
"I'll put your supper on the side if you're not back" she said.

The shackles of the day fell fast away
And with a childish pleasure tingling in my blood
I ran along the winter lane towards the sleeping sea.

The sun had long since set and winter darkness
lay across the creek, blanketing the marsh where
geese dreamed long dark chevrons in their sleep.

It was a small half hearted tide that lapped the
muddy slipway by the quay but even so the water
glistened blackly in the dark.

I sloughed the kayak slowly over mud
until I felt the weightlessness of water pick me up.
Birdlike I was free and paddled
silent as a whisper to the waters off the shore.

In the darkness all perceptions melt and flow.
All familiar things are strangely new and
even if you're never lost,
you never know quite where you are.

All was silent save
the lap of waves against the marsh,
the call of curlews in their sleep.

In the darkness overhead a presence dimly grew.
I felt the weight of moisture in the air and
knew that rain was on it's way.

Suddenly the wrinkled skin of water sang with rings of ripples dancing everywhere.
Out on the open water I was caught
and kissed by cloud, romanced by rain.

When I returned to shore, wheeling the kayak up the darkened hill
I was a different person from before and (true to her promise)
found my supper waiting still.


(c) A McN