Waking brought a special surprise Tuesday morning – a dense fog that cradled the entire bayou such that earth and water were one sentient being.

But my spirit wasn’t caressed by the sense of sight. No, it came alive to touch. That fog burned into my core – a core that has tried to resist being – and left its sun-kissed ember there to rely on during the lightless days of a dark soul.

I wanted to hug the sky, but it was I; I was it. Is this what it is like to be?

I like to be.