There is a tiny strip of woods alongside the Des Plaines River behind the building at work. For a few days now I've been wanting to go stroll it. Today I did.
Here in December, on one of the last days before winter officially beings, two ducks took their own stroll down the same river.
There was a calming quiet in that woods by the water. No humming office equipment; no grinding construction from the other side of the building; no constant babble of people walking by.
A soft barely rain started when I reached the water. It was beautiful by itself, but made more so by the juxtaposition to the glass bottle litter strewn all around. Rain softly fell on the carpet of dry leaves, yet not a drop fell on me the drops were so scattered. Oh, but I could hear them making crinkling noises--the soft forest footsteps of unseen spirits.
That same light rain that dotted road and sidewalk ended after my second step from under the empty branches. Goodbye my ducky friends. The land of glass and concrete and steel is waiting for me.
Posted by fictionman at December 20, 2006 12:45 PM | TrackBack (0)