Salt Spring Island,
Tiptoeing past all capters, the hat masks the slippery figure. All backs turned, afraid to identify the lonely culprit. Stepping stones blur, unsure if they should form a path or retreat to the unseen. All movement is made to look casual from a distance. Hiding in plain sight, the dance is so perfect it’s imperceptible. Escape is eminent, all that’s needed now is patience. The final jump to the solid is already hailed as a spectacular success, only the results lag, not the intention. And sailing on the back of all things to come, the umbrella settles itself into position for a smooth landing into tomorrow’s sun-soaked underbrush as it prepares for the next rain.