A Scoop of Sunshine

"That's the mountain where fire goes to sleep", said one of the old locals, "Nobody goes there after sun down." René listened with intent. He drove this far along the dusky road to reach the village, which lay at the foothills of the mountain. The waters from a nearby stream added a sparkling sound to the misty mountain air. He picked up his back-pack and walked into the small hut, his base, for the next few days.

Lady on the swing, Your hair blows in wind, As you sit there swaying, As if in a dream.

I traverse the empty crowded streets, In search of my true calling. The vastness of the city of dreams Gives me a dismal feeling.

In the silence of the night, soft waves rock my boat as I cross the purple waters of the river to the other side. All I can hear is the water splashing against the oar of the small wooden boat. The tall oarsman is hooded by the darkness. I can't see his face. His long thin hands meticulously row the boat.