The rains are a day past, and the stream nearly clear; another freeze is coming, a winter of wide variation; looking in the water, three feet down, into the current, translucent, transparent, distorting, mesmerizing, the eye takes it in for a while, and then it is full. The rock fades, the stones fade, the gravel dances, they all but vanish, and then it is clear, magnified, perfect, held in the mind’s eye, as the body turns away, full. The gravel dances.