Sometimes you just go out there because you need to feel the press of the river and the heat of the sun on your back. It's a little early. The iced up snake guides are a welcome annoyance. The ache of the arthritis in the thumb joint is just a reminder that you're still here on this good earth and on the water again. You'll take that over a slippery commute or changing out a dead battery under a subzero hood. There's movement and the vault of the sky and birds active in the trees. It's what makes you and shapes meaning and purpose. You'll take it because its what you do.
place within a space
is made of
exploits a possibility of promise