Ripples, Light Columns

This flat-water creek flowed slowly into the Caribbean Sea through dense jungle. Canoeing upstream, Terri and I picked our way around downed trees and clusters of bush, the canopy closing over our heads like stringy fingers. A curious otter peered at us as she back-paddled swiftly by; an industrious kudamundi tore into a stump on the foreshore, looking for grubs; freshwater crabs clicked and snapped into their holes in the riverbank, always wary and just out of view. Everywhere, there was life, woven all around us like knotted fabric.

The high tropical sun streaming through the overhead leaves lit up the murky water beside the canoe in brilliant columns. The light seemed to have structure, fortitude, patience. I liked how it gathered in a spot, ebbing and swirling with the current, stirring energy impossibly into liquid.

We canoed up the stream for a time until it narrowed to the point that progress was difficult. We returned slowly the way we came, lingering near the ocean to look for Manatees before riding the hot dirt road back to town on our bikes.