Nature has taken back what is rightfully its own. The mist plumes around me as I sail; to anywhere and nowhere.

The peace that wraps around the muggy bog holds my boat steady. The silence is so very much appreciated, but so foreign.

I wait.

And wait.

Will there be a pull on my line? Maybe not. A place this quiet can’t have much life at all.

There are no birds chirping.

There are no frogs creaking.

There are no leaves rubbing against each other in the breeze and no breeze at all.

As the hazy light filters through the trees, I realize how easy it is to miss something you rarely ever noticed before it was gone.

Everything is so still.

Only the ripples in the water and the leaves making a suicidal leap into the stream dare make a motion.