Smoke On The Water

At noon today along with the ever-present eagles roosting on poles across the street from my door there were these super thin sheets of ice spinning downstream with the current, each with its own trajectory and course but also confined by the banks of the stream. They spun and smashed into each other, so thin they looked like smoke or fog, forming and reforming like plates of the Earth creating Pangea in a dozen different forms in as many seconds. I could have spent the afternoon watching but the wet snow and Chico's relentless desire to locate lye drove me inside to the laptop and then to the responsibilities of the workplace. . . . . my mind returned to those spinning sheets of frozen smoke throughout the afternoon and I pondered the meaning of the messages scribbled on the water surface by an unseen hand . . . .