More than Gorgeous

Yesterday was exquisitely gorgeous. Late afternoon, I got out the old bike, pumped some air in the tires and rode the lakefront path. I sat down on a rock under a shady tree, and looked at the brilliant water and the sky. I sat in silence, no internal monologue, just kind of registering the moments as they passed me by. There were sailboats, windsurfers; the water an infinite, subtle mixture of colors: blue, green, brown. The water lapped the rocks on the shore, green moss rising and falling with the relentless tempo of the water. The sky was light blue, with a few wisps of white clouds floating overhead in slow motion. I'm sure Walt Whitman, Herman Melville, Henry Miller, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, could write an ecstatic monologue of poetry or prose on the beauty and power of the scene...I sat in silence... maybe sometimes words are like containers trying to describe something that can't be contained...