A Thing About The Lake

It’s where I go. I know I shouldn’t have been out there yesterday. Minutes before, rain poured. Stopped now, the morning darkness still said no. Black and gray, green and gold, all swirling as if in a blender outside my window. No, but the wind said yes. Yes, it’s not raining now. Yes, the wind is high. Yes, there will be waves. You love to see it all stirred up and restless like yourself. There will be waves. I went. The wind was so strong I had to fight just to be there, Just like everywhere else I am. I’m a fighter. Quiet, but I fight. Maybe I wouldn’t have to fight so much if I weren’t so quiet. If I would crash and roar like the waves, maybe trouble would stay back. I went. Straight to the edge. No crashing waves. No roaring. The waves, flattened by the winds, reversed, moved away from the shore, away from the rocks, away from me. The waves were quiet. Is this the calm or the storm?

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