Walking by the river in the fog, the heavy sand gives slowly under my foot, holding the impression of my soles clearly, like a cast. I glance over my shoulder and see the trail I’ve walked disappearing into the mist. The music of the running water fills my ears, never stopping, never starting, its meaning forgotten to time.
I look back up my path and see nothing but a blank, white cloud. I know, in time, if I keep walking, I’ll find where the river bends and widens, where the pier and launch are waiting. I will leave no footprints in the stream, and the ripples of my wake will spread out, growing smaller and smaller until they are nothing.
Tale Told 