Creepy, they stand tall. Their legs stretching down. They crawl with each watery lap of lake, shadowed above the liquid tomb they are destined to rise above until they become a part of the sand their roots are buried in. With the low hanging clouds and the sun that is no longer there, they loom. Dark and foreboding. I love it.
Just as I expected too, a walk along the imbedded snags rests my mind. Wandering eases the restless need to sift through items that pull my arms heavy, next to my toes. Shutter clicks perk my eyes to tune into what is directly in front and behind. Below and above.
Stretching from my feet, the sand lined with water sucks at my shoes, squishing beneath each step I hope won’t get me wet. The glassy ripples reflect moments of clarity between rotting wood, sandbars and vegetation.
Geese honk, shifting my vision to something too far to see. Dark spots between me and the horizon fluff and flutter, taking up space in a bird shape with blurred edges. Grayish pink, blue and yellow fade even farther still, blending with the water that I know mountains edge, but can’t see.