Yesterday I planned my afternoon to stop by a favorite small stream in Middlesex, one I’ve visited hundreds of times over the years. I’ve rarely been disappointed by the place and often have left with images that are astonishing. This “old friend” so often whispers in my eye: “Here I am. See me.”
The water was low but, far back in the stream, the reflections were there, of sunlit leaves, the bright sky and of the dark places that so often draw me to this world.