The Hammock

From my perch in the hammock I have a beautiful view of the lake or of the leafy tree and sky overhead, depending on my position. I take the necessary supplies with me – a bottle of water, a couple of books, a pen and a notebook. I climb into the woven cocoon suspended between two cottonwood trees and feel as if I am floating. A gentle breeze blows the last of spring’s coolness over me as I read and sway until I am overcome with a drowsiness which tears me from my novel in favor of a nap.

Eyes closed I can see the red negative outline of the lake on the inside of my eyelids. The color gradually fades until it all but disappears and I forget where I am, imagining instead that I am on a raft in the sea or on a magic carpet flying through imaginary air. A bird calls and I awake with a start, remembering where I am.

I smile and return to my book. Life is good here in my hammock.