One evening Aaron, Keller and I went outside to check to see if we could see the aurora and we were met with a thick wall of fog. We promptly hopped into the canoe.
sand on sand
rocks grinding
scratching and tearing at the bottom
and then silence
gliding across the surface
dip swing dip swing
the gentle rhythm
the drips from the paddle
the only sounds to be heard
as they descend into the grey fog
blind to everything
except the pale halo of the moon
it glows faintly
the white diffused through the clouds
the water divides at the front
of the canoe
bow slicing through the still fluid
speckled along the shore
long and golden
hazy beams stab the grey barrier
the yellow stirs memories of warm within
suddenly aware
of the chilly air
soaking in
penetrating every pore
stealthy and silent
as a cat on the roof
lost in the blanket
everything is at peace
balanced and still
nothing
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