A Quaint dream: Words and thoughts, passages of prose, like a faint passing dream from my recent trip. Part Fourteen.



…I look out to the lake.  The water was high, consuming the banks on either side.  I cannot see the beach I played on with my puppy one year ago.  It’s hidden under the present of a king tide, and I am in awe.  It is not a flood.  It is not an overflow of rain.  It is the rise of the sea at its mightiest.  I wonder if it had been a full moon.  I wonder what caused such a high tide…


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