11: Open - Nov 2021

Rough Water

The storm arrived to play, to provoke the lake in earnest, after I set off on my swim. I felt it move from diamonds and gleam to graphite and raw edges. Weightless, tossed sideways over and again, and in my small irrelevance I stroke towards land, turn my breath away from the waves wanting in. Lake of refuge, reliability and impervious beauty, reminding me now of its unfathomable self, its ceaselessness. The thresholds I routinely…

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