At lunch on Friday I ate by the water. Ann and I sat on the back deck of a restaurant. A river ran below us. I discussed with her the form of the river. It ran over boulders and shelf. The water looked like water that could hold trout. I had not fished this water before. I told her that I thought the river held trout. I ate my pulled pork sandwich.
On Sunday I went to church in the Small Town. After worship I did my chores. I walked down to the porch. Pollen lay on the table. Water rings were made in the pollen from a dripping glass now gone. The pollen was yellow on both sides. I brushed the pollen aside. I read the Sunday paper. I was ansty. I thought of the water.