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Succor A late summer breeze ripples the pond water into
small waves. The afternoon sun warms my neck and back, relaxing
the muscles in my shoulders. Miles from sounds of cars, planes,
decibel-maxed radios, I let internal pressures of the day fade.
Dragonflies flit around me; a few stop to examine the creature
with pencil and pad, then dart away. I close my eyes. Somewhere
to my left, a dove calls; somewhere in front of me, a fish
splashes; and everywhere it seems are bird, frog, and insect
sounds. For the first time in weeks, I'm in no hurry to be
anywhere at any appointed time.
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