The Last Thing I DoPassing of the clouds is barely perceptible, unless the boat rocks and disturbs their reflection before the water returns to glass. The landscape is completely calm, not a tree branch bending. Sunlight beats down, felt, and seems the only thing moving.
I sit endlessly, caught up in the serenity of the lake. I think long about the last thing that I must do, but haven't been out on the water since you left. Left, but not quite gone, and this is not the place. I will know when I find the spot, where you and I used to sit and pass the hours as precious time together waned.
I row. We used to take turns rowing. Our favorite pastime was to try to find the exact mid-point between opposite shores. I always had trouble locating the right spot but today I remember your words: Jus
