“Peace Comes Dropping Slow”

There is the quiet of a Virginia wild place that neatly organizes a multitude of life forms and gives evidence of a Great Mind and a Heart. The sun of an October afternoon bathes leaves to yellow and orange, and some drift downward in slow spirals. Ripples expand silently, as they touch the river. The great river. The mighty Potomac. Boats arrive at odd points during the morning, disembark from trailers, and float.  Assisted by the energy of human hand or motor, they glide away on the green water which laps against the landing, grow smaller, then disappear in the distance, along the blue water highway. Ancient, hollowed trunks of sycamore trees grip the earth with gnarled roots and soar upward in a leaning prayer that reaches almost to the blue sky, and drop strange hard brain-like fruit the size of a yellow-green grapefruit. Dirt paths along the bank bring friends, family, couples for strolls, in gentleness and comraderie.  It is early afternoon in the middle of the work week, so there is leisure only for some. Squirrels, chipmunks, deer, bugs, cranes, egrets and chittering small birds make good companions. Beneath the water another kingdom reveals only its little minnows at the water’s rocky edge, but the river teems with life. The swooping of a large white bird to the water’s surface and its sudden rising gives a glint of silver in the beak.


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