There were boulders of many sizes and forms near the marsh. As I leapt from one to other adjusting my position for some photographs of the faraway hills, I stumbled, but thankfully regained my balance before I toppled into the water.
When I scrolled through those photographs, words took form. I could see my feet moving, from now to then, on the boulders of memories.
The distance between
now and then
bouldered with
obstinate memories.
I stumble on some,
evade others,
crush a few
under my feet.
Then,
in the now
I wait for tomorrow.
Musings of a Wandering Dryad 