In the gray.
10/20/09 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alasanonI walked along the edge of the world this morning -- the sea and sky and scent and taste all blurring into one formless mass of beautiful hazy capital-W Weather. These days are rare, silent and pure and full of easy smiles and the tang of water. There were herons, too, spreading their wings against the consuming fog. I looked at rosehips, blush-bright and burning, and the last fading pale petals of a few late roses. There were others there, other runners and walkers and bicyclists, all with more purpose in their steps than I.
I stepped on a stone, and on a strand of red rope tied to represent the future rising of the tides.
In my mind, I was far away, thinking of other shores and other times, other voices singing songs in the color gray, other tastes in my mouth besides salt. A boat, docked to release its cargo into my world, a towering behemoth of rust and iron -- and another, drifting in a mist of nothing-in-particular -- they know something of the other, or they do when at a seen at a distance by someone who is pretending that nothing else matters.
What else is there to tell?
I stepped on a stone, and on a strand of red rope tied to represent the future rising of the tides.
In my mind, I was far away, thinking of other shores and other times, other voices singing songs in the color gray, other tastes in my mouth besides salt. A boat, docked to release its cargo into my world, a towering behemoth of rust and iron -- and another, drifting in a mist of nothing-in-particular -- they know something of the other, or they do when at a seen at a distance by someone who is pretending that nothing else matters.
What else is there to tell?
