Letting go.

I plucked a handful of samaras from the gnarled green ash leaning over the creek, letting them sift through my fingers and spin slowly into the water below. Most leapt over the rocks, flowing with the clear water over the riffles. Two lingered in an eddy, turning in circles. Go, I willed them. Go downriver. You can’t stay here. This pool takes you nowhere. Let go and flow with the river.

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