Rick Stowe

Powell Observations

The heron and the osprey are the only souls that pay me mind. They fly farther down the bank, until they grow tired and quickly retreat to their nests.To everything else I’m just part of the river. Like a log or some neglected item that got washed away.My orange plastic boat moves with the currents. Bobbing past rocks and rolling over eddies. On occasion a fish will match my speed, and I can watch it dart effortlessly through its clear cool world. As I navigate the shallows under the bridge the morning doves hardly flutter. They are more impressed with the heat than with my presence. I am part of the river, I can read its motions, and I can see its smallest details. The take out comes into view, and I start to become part of the real world again. I’ll be back, as soon as the next break comes. I’ll be back. As soon as I can.

Photograph by Rick Stowe

Starlit Comrades and Contemplations

Cicadas call across the field trying to drown out the conversations in between. With summer’s closing near friends say goodbyes, and hopeful romances try one last time to plant a seed. Memories that will last a lifetime are reviewed, emphasizing the importance of the last two months to the souls present. Many of those reclined in the field are approaching transitions of lifestyle. College to career. High school to college. Single to married. Known to unknown.

Lives are put into perspective by the stars above. The light we see has been traveling through space since before we were born. The miles between the observers and the galaxies above are more than the party combined will ever travel.The cosmos in all their grand mystery are as complex as the bodies that lie under them. Both from the hand of the same the creator. Both unattainable designs. Both meant as testaments to God’s glory, power, and mystery.

Photograph by Rick Stowe