I remember a time when I rowed the boat from shore.
Hallelujah!
It was dusk on the river, with twilight setting in as the sunset slipped away behind a horizon filled with trees. It was summer so of course they were all green.
How many such horizons has any one of us seen in a lifetime?
And as I rowed the boat from shore...
Hallelujah!
There was a smell of fresh water filling my youthful nostrils, clean and vibrant and pure and wet. The smell of the outdoors will always reawaken such childhood memories.
The sense of smell is definitely among the top five, don’t you agree?
The oars created a remarkably simple melody as I rowed the boat from shore.
Hallelujah!
The tiny heads of little frogs appeared upon the water and nearby splashes marked the memory of frog prints on abundant lily pads. The night has always held traces of such magical moments.
When night consumes and sleep arrives, what are the fond memories of which you dream?
There are no more frogs upon the river of my childhood. Glimpses of green can not be seen as the moonlight reflects upon the moments caught in mystical underwater frog dances.
The lily pads have been replaced by shore bound condominiums. Concrete mixed with steal in swift architectural brush strokes can not capture the simple shades of green that were intrinsic to the quaint little homes of long forgotten frogs.
The horizon is still there, yes my friend that is true, but the trees are few and far between.
You see, in this world of ours, it is not very easy being green.
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