georgian bay

Sun has been dodging clouds all day and now it has been out for an hour or so.
I am away from the wind so the heat is glorious as the waves race to the rocks.
The rocks here are so Canadian.
Imagine being in Japan or India and never being able to see a place like this?
It's not as scary as the desert because you can see other places, islands, cottages, but you feel removed.

Glittering green and red leaves rest on the ponds.
Dips and doodles and pockets of water and marsh face up to the wind.
There are curves and dips and shallows in the rocks.
There are gouges and gaps and hollows ... .
The striations in the rocks are so beautiful.
These variances entice me to engage in a relationship with them.
They tempt me to find patterns and outlines, possibly stories in their midst.
Can rocks talk? Well, not talk; they don' talk; but do they speak?

Continuity is instinctive here on the rocks: the sun bakes you on the rocks during the day and continues to permeate your back as you lie watching the stars at night.