Undertow

A leaf floats calmly by on the surface of a lazy river. The carefree drifter moves without seeming purpose, directed only by the river’s tranquil flow. Little bugs dance undisturbed by it’s passing. The dark brown water gives the red green leaf more importance than it may deserve and so one cannot help but be captivated by the elegant movement. Anticipation and curiosity build. What will become of it? Where does the river go? Who will watch the elegant dance next?

Without a hint of impending danger, the little arbor discard is yanked from sight into the brown void. The vanishing act being a product of the fickle current, shallow to deep, the water swirls far below and what it snatches from the top side world is now descending and rolling without end, held in captivity, in furious limbo. The underworld has taken hold and there is no reasonable reckoning of when the prisoner, the plaything, will be liberated. With no certainty that it shall ever be seen again, thoughts of it are cast aside. The viewer is resigned. It is gone, taken by the undertow.