The other side of the creek.
I can see it from here, hiding behind rosebushes and ferns that shadow me.
Only, I know they way across without filling my boots with freezing water.
Over the log, careful when the gap between the rising, guiding branches is too wide. Shifting one foot out, so fragments of bark fall into the rushing shallow water below. I can just touch the next branch with my middle finger.
I dare to cross.
All concern gone, I hop onto the other side of the creek.
I’m swallowed by rosebushes and shadowing ferns.