I was out at the Dumplings this morning at the turn of the tide. The moment hung there in the raking light, neither coming nor going. The mudflats hissed gently and ducks gaggled on the exposed rocks. The wind tried to fill in from the bay but the tide said, "let's wait a bit." The day was on hold; the water was flat as steel and the seaweed silently draped. Everything waited. I walked around the tiny island almost holding my breath. When I returned to where I had begun, my little boat was exactly as I had left it on the muddy shore, half in the water and half on the beach.
I rowed back to the dock and by the time I got there the day had begun. A whaler buzzed, the wind had filled in and the ferry went by.
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