Another Ripple by Diane Allerdyce
Image | Cottonbro Studio Another Ripple Prologue: I told my children years ago that the Grateful Dead song “Ripple” sho uld be played at my funeral. Now, though, I would revise the words: We know th e way home. I’ll meet you there. What do you think, my mother asks, gazing out from her patio at the lake behind her house: Is it wind that causes those ripples, or is there a spring that feeds the water from within? What’s amazing for me is her question ’s reach. What does make the water move? Which is it for the soul—laws that govern the heart’s vici ssi tudes, needs erupting like volcanoes at the core, setting the surface to rumble? The truth is both, I tell her. Still waters respond. Daybreak : a dappled scarf whose prisms pour light and pattern, chop, silence, age and youth. Sunset: desire’s and wisdom’s subtle bond. © Diane Allerdyce Diane Allerdyce Diane is a ...
