Farther down the flowing stream lies a body of water, mostly stagnant, with depth unknown — the culmination of countless cloudbursts, downpours, monsoons and tsunamis.
The pool’s inhabitants, once believed to be waterproof, are now drenched, saturated and waterlogged.
The water itself is brackish and dark. The clouds above block reflection. The air outside is humid, heavy and dank.
Yet a little farther along there is runoff — a gentle flow of trickling water. The clouds, having cleared, now reveal the sparkling dew blanketing the sprouting greenery.
A spring with water pure and sweet gently spews, merging with the briney runoff. A new stream is born — a stream flowing forth with new purpose, carving riverbeds with rushing water — water that is mostly fresh, clean and pure, but still with a trace of saltiness remaining.
Leyla Nickerson said:
Beautifully written Barbara – the waters are dark and murky for a long time and then, somehow, life offers us a new avenue or stream – clearer and never the same. I appreciate the writing of each of the women in your group. Thank you so much.
Beautiful analogy Barbara!
Peggy Clover said:
Oh, Barbara. I can feel it all. Such a joy when we can catch a glimpse of that clearer stream and can move toward it.