Thomas Doty – Storyteller
In October I return to the bridge on Dry Creek at Lake of the Woods. Remembering my childhood, I visited here last spring when the lake was full of ducks and pelicans and geese, the trees full of leaves and the brimming creek running clear.
Now, fallen leaves stain the creek amber. Waterfowl have arrowed south. And standing on the bridge I feel a chill to the breeze.
In this stark landscape my mind moves beyond the gathering storm clouds, beyond cold nights freezing the creek to a standstill, beyond snowdrifts that cover the bridge.
My mind moves beyond winter to leaves and ducks and a boy on a bridge, gazing into a clear-running creek.
Website © 1997- by Thomas Doty.