i imagine a chance to love everything

I have been away from Ohio for six years and finally moved back this summer. Every day that I was away, I longingly remembered one thing about this little part of the world. It’s not something that inspires the illustrious painters of nature or the romantic bards that croon of the greatest of lakes. It’s the gray, cloud-covered waters; the sky, whispering a secret of rain, like at any moment, real silver may fall. Today was the first day that I found the weather again and I am so happy for it. August and mysteriously cool, the temperature low enough for me to wear a tee shirt and a fleece. But it’s the water that really gets under my skin something wickedly happy. There could be nothing and everything out there and I would never know. And I don’t need too. The clouds are so low that the little white caps forming in the coming storm from Canada look like they might just grab them and pull them into some secret chamber. And the sky between the clouds is a permanent muted pink, even though the sun is no nearer to setting. All of the kingdom of things feels this weather I think, because I can hear them buzzing violently outside in their bushes and stalks, stems and blades. All this while, the fattest lake gull I have ever seen sits fixed on the top of the dock light. Every minute or so he barks at the waves, daring them to knock him from his perch, spit him on his back. It’s been over three hours and he’s still there. He’s an Ohio bird for sure. He won’t move away for anything.