I pushed off and paddled out
into the shimmering line of afternoon sun.
When I was far enough from shore,
I flung one leg over each side,
and fully submerged my tired feet
in the cold November lake.
I leaned into my seat and
dropped my head back as far it would go.
I stretched my arms out into a T.
The backs of my hands rested lightly
on the water’s surface.
I closed my eyes,
lulled gently by the waves.

I thanked the universe
for unseasonably warm wind,
and empty sky.

When I opened my eyes a while later
I was surprised to see a giant bird up above me,
flying, soaring, but stuck in place,
caught like a kite, right over my head.
It stayed there. We stayed there,
mirroring each other,
for minutes that felt like hours.
For an eternity.
An invisible thread between us,
connecting us, connecting water to wind.
Then the current shifted,
the boat began to turn,
and the big bird moved on.

I thanked the universe
for giving me a chance to float,
a chance to fly.