The River Loons

A cold gray autumn day, the leaves are burning with color. I walk at the edge of river which looks like a long gray snake. Leaves are drifting down to their final resting place. 

There is stillness in the air; it is as if I see me through someone else’s eyes. The loons sing their soliloquy the haunting sound soothes me. The melody reaches a part of me that has been dormant for many years. 

It’s just me standing there looking across a cold gray reflection and the water it looks inviting, so inviting. The loons sing again, the leaves fall, the river moves and so do I.