The path seems to stretch on forever,
each wooden plank, individual,
telling its own story.
The grasses, more shades of green than there are crayons,
bowing to their master,
the cool wind.
The water, someplaces murky brown and others pure blue,
housing the gators and fish and crabs,
sanctuary to so many.
The fisherman, standing on the end of the pier,
snatching up the big catches,
and throwing the little ones back.
The sun sparkling on the water,
rippling between the blades of water grasses,
blinds as you gaze at its reflection.
The birds, skimming the surface,
ride the current like a ferryboat,
going wherever it takes them.
The people, standing in awe,
glad that they’ve been able to experience
the solitude of nature.