#43

He let the trees keep watch as he removed his clothing, laying shirt and shorts on a log red and damp and rotting. He picked his way through the brush and treefall, over rocks red, grey, blue, white, green, yellow, big rocks round and smooth, time travelers spit from the fires of volcanos and dragged under thick sheets of ice to this sacred place. The rocks gave way to sand as his thin, naked body reached the water and did not slow, did not flinch at the cold, and when the water lapped at his belly he fell forward into it, small splash soundless. He swam, a man become animal, weighed by nothing but his own flesh. He swam until his teeth began to chatter and then returned reluctantly to shore, to his clothing, and, to home.