There are gods here, too. (Herakleitos, 74.)
The way you feel after a swim in water that is full of weather somehow, lit green by sun and reflected cedars, pierced with dragonflies, shadowed by the mountain we live under, and wrinkled by light air movement this morning. You are never more yourself, but you don’t even begin to think that while you are there, your own reflection in the surface. You turn and turn in the water. If you are quiet enough, the mother merganser will pass very near with her newly-hatched ducklings, 17 of them, tiny and buoyant as a wish.
–from an essay, “On Swimming and the Origins of String, with a Bow to Herakleitos”, published in the Temz Review, Issue 30
...Theresa Kishkan 