Along the way, and well prior to the light burning away the fog that lifted slowly from the bayou’s surface, I stopped long enough to appreciate a man fishing from his comfortable perch as the still waters rested quietly in the forest’s embrace.  Here the mist still reigned.

Yet as the morning grew older and the light warmer, the lack of wind could no longer keep the fog from succumbing to its fate.  Only in the distance could its remnants be seen, in retreat and in anger its form fading silently…silently.

The stillness of the bayou remained, though.  Beautiful, silent, unchanging from my view yet a thriving universe of life and death both above and below the mirrored surface.

Before leaving the waters to the sun’s embrace, a haunting prospect struck me while I made my way beneath the bridge: How many times had I traveled across this concrete monster without ever stopping to notice it from a different perspective?

Its strength marched forward on concrete pillars into the final grasps of a waning cloud resting upon the earth.  I paused long enough to appreciate that a utility so constructed might still offer a bit of elegance when viewed from someplace other than usual.

A full day followed.  Despite that, however, every once in a while I would stop and lose myself in the beauty of it all.  Clouds billowed to life in defiance of what had been done to the fog, and the blue and the sun found themselves doing battle to rule the day.

The outcome of this war made for more stunning vistas from the middle of the Piney Woods.  I couldn’t help but notice the view each time I turned.