There is a so quiet time of certain days, when if only for brief moments, if we stand very, very still out there and maybe even hold our breath - then maybe we just might share in the experience of the spirits walking...
These so still ephemeral moments happen when that silky fog drifts in over a quieted ocean, or across that beach you've just landed upon. They walk from the water towards the trees, so slowly, always from the water.
These elementals walk too among the earliest morning mountain mists, both before and after storms, when the wind has yet to disturb them.
They wander among alpine meadows, brushing the dew from the grass and then resting near the timeless rocks out there.
Such spirits rise up and drift too over those yet to be frozen waters of northern lakes, where the colder approaching winter air greets them and the dense fog that is then embraced.
Then they look for us as we slowly paddle and hike among them.
They sit quietly as well among the stones of many rivers when they need a longer rest, or when they want to connect and converse with us, telling stories and laughing much as the water does over the wet rocks and rapids.
Such swirls of movement and memory, so much evoking of spirit and emotion.
They may be mostly hidden among the elements, yet they watch and wait patiently for our return.
So then they may encircle each of us, while we are wandering within our own journeys, in a waking of so many kinds of spirits out there..... DSD
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