Lake Lewisia #636

[scrubjayspeaks]

In winter, it hunted in the glint of light off snow, and in summer, in the bleached-bone glare of noonday sun, darting closer in the blinding whiteness that brought hands up to shade faces even as eyes squinted shut. It sprang out of the backlit silhouette you thought you recognized, sharp as broken glass, inconstant as a prism twirling white light into slivers of rainbow. It served as a reminder that not all bright things were good, and not every shadow should be driven out of sight.

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LL#636