The outdoor wooden chair structure was actually two seats with arm rests, connected in the middle with a built in table. I sat there, as the sun rose over my right shoulder and the landscape, at the water’s edge. My right ankle atop my left leg just above the knee.
My arms were resting. Right on the arm rest, left on the table. My hands were touching the fabric of my trousers, My fingers were feeling warm against the dark brown fabric that was catching the rays of the sun. My index finger was extended somewhat, catching the early morning coolness that was still in the air.
My shadow had been stretched across the lawn for forty yards, now closer to me, twenty feet. The flags hung still, lifeless, no breeze moving their folds. No one waving at me.
The water lay beyond the road. A lone fishing boat drifting, trolling by in the distance. My loft was on a knoll, above the road and water. Traffic moved left to right and right to left, steady, in bunches, with quiet intervals, trucks, cars, people, moving to and fro.
Behind the roofline of the last building was an eagle. Perched in the branches of a tree that had been stripped of its colorful Fall foliage from winds the days before now.
My eyes darted, the eagle, the water, the traffic, the water, the flagpole, the water, the eagle, my shadow, the water, the eagle, the water, the eagle, the water, the eagle, the water, the water, the water.
The eagle stood still and flapped his giant black wings. I adjusted my position, moving my right leg and exchanging it with my left. My index finger still cold in comparison to the rest of my digits. The water.
I listened to my breath. There was no sound, but I heard it. I followed it into and out of my body. I watched my stomach rise and fall. I felt that finger, extended, I felt the coolness of the morning. The water.
Now. The water is always now, always there. The eagle watches here daily. I pass through, returning to a place I have been before with long intervals in between my visits. The water has such energy. I feel it.
I watch and know that this large mass of the Sacred Earth Mother’s life blood affects us all, affects the land that rises from it, the sand and soil pushed into where I sit by glaciers millions of years ago. This view has always been here. The water always here. The eagle still stands nearby, seeing what I am seeing.
He glances at me as I glance back. Our eyes meet. I feel it. The water glistens in the sun as small waves start to form. The boat is gone. The flags move. My shadow is next to me. I flap my wings. The eagle adjusts his position. It is morning. My finger is cool. My heart still beats. The water soothes, heals and comforts.