swimming hole, sinking sun
1 August 1999

There are no clouds to shade this day- shoulder deep in bath water, deafened by the waterfall upstream. The gorge extends ten stories overhead- angled stone meeting creeping trees. By the time I return to my writing perch the sun is slipping and my toes are wrinkled prunes. Small droplets of water evaporate off my back and finally I turn my face upward to meet warmth and light.