February 9, 2023

Vivaldi on Pandora. Slow red dawn. Warm as spring. 

Rose and went to Lake Powhatan. When I left the air was sweet and clement; when I arrived a storm arrived at the same time, but it was lordly, and I wandered in it. An old man with a walker fished from the pier. Met a dog named Chip. Mostly Canadas and mallards on the lake. The sound the wind made in the trees was like human singing. Now and then leaves would strike the ground, and you’d turn, because the sound of them was like footsteps following.