Near Brookgreen Gardens, SC – May 5, 2013
The wind shifted like clockwork, rotating from the north to the east to the south, pulling warm air on top of cold in grey sheets of clouds and rain that wash across the land. The water feels right again, fluid, movable, and I go, sliding up a flooded river edged with cypress.
The trees wade out into the water on thickening trunks. Grey moss hangs on their branches, old against the fresh green crowns. Ospreys nest in the crowns. Streaks of light spill across the dark sky. Waves of rain slip over me. I search for any dry land left unswallowed by the flood, but find only walls of half-sunk trees and cypress knees guarding the shore.
The grey sky fades to black. Frogs roar in the night. The trees become dark shadows slipping past. I don’t see land until midnight, until I find a thin muddy bank and collapse on it, feeling like I’ve actually moved for the first time in days.