The call of the water.
Written by : Peter Saltsman
You’re sitting on a wooden dock, dangling your feet into the still, blue-grey water of a northern lake. A mist rises from the water’s surface. It’s early morning and eerily quiet. You look across the water at the mountains peering out from the opposite shore, the pine trees glistening in the rising sun, and you are struck by the impossible beauty of it all. You feel alone and at one. This is the kind of moment they write poems about, you think. Maybe you’ll take up painting.