Of Flowing Rivers, Paddling Ducks, and Dancing Sunlight

The building where my classes are held sits on the banks of the Grand River. To see the river, I have to face the East, so I don't get to see the sunset. My building is not that high, but it's high enough to block the dying rays of the sun from fully hitting the river. In between buildings though, there is a sliver of sunlight that slips through -- and that's what I see now, dancing on the still-swelled-with-rain river's surface.

The river flows to the north, but the light stays in one place and even if it's not moving, the sunlight engages in a dance. On this patch of light sits a duck, serenely paddling towards the south. It isn't going anywhere really. It just sits there and paddles constantly so that he maintains his position under the sun.

River flowing to the north.

Sunlight loosely firm in front of me.

Duck calmly paddling to the south.

Duck's legs frantic underneath.

This constant moving without going anywhere, the panic under the calm.

All this unfolding in front of me, all this unfolding inside of me.

Wait, the duck just flew away.

9/24/2008
6pm