Hebron's Water

Hebron’s water was smooth that night, a moonless night, the lake like satin shimmering, turned red vermilion, pink and orange mixed and mingled with blue becoming black in time, reflecting a sky that pulls me into its darkness, a darkness descending from dusk and twilight into night, through time’s celestial passing, absorbing me into itself, closing in, surrounding me, my own form now but a shadow growing thinner, a shadow out of place here on the water’s edge, ankle deep in an amniotic warmth that holds me fast, transfixed and transformed by this expanse of sky and sea, dark and fluid, primordial, silent ‘cept for an echo’s eerie cry of a loon unseen, a specter’s warble calling out, trilling, unanswered, calling out, calling me.