I reached the Coke Field around noon,
hoping to be able to see turtles basking on rocks
in the creek. However much I tried to be quiet,
my footfalls still sounded like explosions
on the gravel approach to the bridge, while
walking on the grass was almost as loud.
The only part of a turtle I've seen so far is the
backside of its shell as it glided into the concentric
circles made as it dived into the water,
and this time was no different.
I leaned against the bridge railing to look
at the water as it flowed over the rocks in the creek,
looking at each likely looking rock, hoping
it was a turtle. There were none, but the beauty
of the sun as it was reflected by the ripples
was enough to capture my interest.
For whatever reason, I like the colors of the rocks
and moss. Stray leaves, trapped underwater,
accentuate the patterns of the creek's flow over the rocks,
with the sun's light sparkling like liquid jewels
on a silken tapestry.