I love the water. Everything about it. Smelling the humidity in the air, seeing the mist rise in the morning, feeling the dew-wet grass on my bare feet. I love watching the fish jump and the geese land. We even have an eagle here that circles every so often. Lori Foster

 

Ejimas paupiu – niekad neprailgsta. Lydima pauksciu treliu, stebiu nendriu lingavima vejyje ir sauleje raibuliuojanti vandeni. Vabzdziu buriai suka ratus vandens pavirsiumi, bet mane domina tik laumzirgiai. Jie gerokai didesni uz bet kuri kita vabzdi. Tik nutupe ant vienos smilgeles, ziurek, jau kyla ieskodami kito lapelio pailsinti savo sparneliams, kurie blizga, zvilga visoms imanomomis spalvomis ir pritraukia mano demesi. 

Priejusi arciau akmenuoto kranto, isibrendu basomis i vandeni. Saltas, deginantis, lyg adatytemis badantis – nusmelkia skausmas, kuris pereina visu kunu ir pamazu apsipratus ima nykti.  Apima palaima. Taip grudinama valia. Isilipus i tekanti vandeni, pati tampi tekme, nenustygstancia versme energijos, meiles, kurybos ir gyvenimo troskimo.

Linkiu ir jums buti energingomis  upiu versmemis, kurios daznai tampa muzomis rasytojams, poetams ir meninkams; kurios pagydo sergani, atgaivina istroskusi, pamaitina isalkusi; kurios neretai sugrazina energija nusilpusiems, suteikia dziaugsma vaikams.

 

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