Great news, dear readers: I’ve been asked to submit some writing to the YouthRadio blog, and they’ve republished Episode 10 of Let’s Talk About Education Tuesday here. Not just there, though–if you’re not tired of reading that particular piece, you can see it again at The Huffington Post. Whoop!
In addition, I realized I couldn’t’ve asked for a better readership. Have some pseudo-poetry for your efforts.
Plink, swish. Swiftly the blade pierces the river’s silky surface and propels our craft forward. Plink, swish. If you listen closely, you can hear the water rushing past the hull and see it wrinkle, as though our bow is parting curtains. Plink, swish. When we pause to check our direction, listen to the drops trickle in a soft stream from your suspended oar.
From here, we’re dwarfed by jagged canyon walls and dusty bluish shrubbery. Clouds perch on the cliffs and subdue the sun. The current sweeps our boat towards the high shoreline, the drone of insects eerily absent from the tangled tamarisk. In fact, the whole canyon is silent, save for the occasional cry of a raven.
The water looks like it’s made of mercury, or it would if mercury were the color of jade, folding and transforming beneath us, getting lighter and darker as it yields to the sands beneath. Plink, swish. Each stroke is meditation, taking us around bend after bend in the river’s carved path. The sun sinks beneath the variegated red of the sandstone walls, and we rudder our craft towards a tawny beach.
The winds pick up, then ebb to a temperate breeze. The scene, far removed from the city’s ceaseless chatter, is utterly placid and growing dark. Lay back on the sand, tilt your head to catch the emerging stars. The moon, so full it looks as though it will burst, ascends into view above the red rock, casting pools of silvery light onto the shore. You want to absorb it all, but your eyelids begin to slip closed and the moon pulls a shroud of gauzy cloud cover tight around its shoulders.
Tomorrow, when the sun stretches fingers of godly light through a cumulus-laden sky, we’ll do it all again.