Day Twenty-One: Reflection
I stand behind the wire fence and see a large white pelican that stands at the edge of the bank on the far side of the lake. I watch the pelican and also watch its inverted image in the water as the big bird spreads its wings, stretches, stretches again, wider and higher, then slowly folds them back against its sides. Every part of the pelican, every bush and tree behind it is repeated on the green-black surface of the water in a hazy, rippled version of the real world on the bank.
Some days I can't get enough of the world we live in, its vivid colors, its stark contrasts and clearly-defined edges. Other times, when I've watched the news and the world itself seems to have been flipped upside down, I'd prefer to ignore the reality and live in the soft serenity of a watery reflection until everything has been righted again.
Unfortunately, I can't hold my breath that long. Can't. Won't.