“Dear Lake Huron,” he whispered, his hair rising and falling, “You are the loveliest bubble!”
Among the waves, under the stars, he recalled other bubbles that he had seen; desert horizons in Iran. From one bubble to the next, at peace with the idea of being afloat in this vast expanse… No longer under the stars; he knew he was a part of them. Deserts and oceans…Earlier in the night, Jon had said, “Venture on, the wind will find you.” Among the aches and the stiffness of the universe in his muscles, he kept moving, allowing the sand to caress, for the first time, his bare feet; the bare feet that few had ever seen.
He turned to his friends. “There’s a light on the water.” He pointed and pointed. “There’s a light there. It has to be on the water.”
“Might be the reflection of a star…”
“I don’t think so,” he said, as he dug his toes into the sand. “It’s a different color.”
They all watched the light and said nothing. It would’ve been a pointless conversation, but then again, in this vast expanse, pointlessness went right hand in hand with the immensity of one’s desires. Irony smiled constantly. Among the aches, and the stiffness of the universe in his muscles, he kept moving, and he wanted to write the greatest poem in the sand with his toes, for lake Huron.
“Dear lake Huron,” he whispered, “Thank you for understanding my feet.”