An Evening

The fragile beauty of a summer evening as the sun begins its low glow above the silhouette of trees was the perfect time for sitting in a coasting canoe.

For a while we chased the reflection of the half moon up the river until we reached the end of a finger where the sanctuary begins. Small schools of bait fish bubbled ahead on the surface on each side of the bow. Quiet evening air was punctuated by the raspy call of the blue herons behind the marsh and later by the lyrical beauty of the warbler's call. We looked up to see a juvenile bald eagle without his balding color glide to land gracefully in the crook of a nearby tree becoming camouflaged against the darkening shadows.


The pink and purple surface of the water was gently rippled by the cool and welcoming breeze that also kissed our faces. Windows from houses nestled against the sheltering trees on the distant shore glowed warm and golden as the evening lamps were turned on.

Three blue herons glided smoothly ahead of us following the shoreline. One landed at the top of the tallest tulip tree and remained like a sentinel arching his neck and balancing his head in perfect yoga pose as we slid past below.

The sun's bright glow diminished rapidly, and reluctantly, we turned back skirting the gray fingers of fallen trees near the shore as we headed toward home.