It was early on a crisp November morning and the sun was barely shining through the haze, but just enough to touch the marsh with gossamer streaks… I’d wandered a new way through the riparian forest on a narrow path along the creek. The path opened to a crumbled bridge made of broken concrete across the creek where I flushed out some ducks with my clumsy footsteps. I looked downstream at the marsh to where it flowed into the Otonabee River (which looked more like a lake from where I stood) and saw my prize.

As the sun winked at me, it kissed the marsh good morning, trailing caresses of heaven’s light on water’s skin…

…Or were they fairies or water sprites dancing on water’s surface in the joy of morning?… I imagined them skating along its surface like water striders, leaving a trail of glitter…