I sit on the edge of the dock letting me feet dangle lightly over the water. If I lean forward a little more the ends of my toes could skim over it (the water).

I watch the wind plays off the water and sun giving the lake a shimmer of an almost dream like quality. The wind grabs and snags onto my hair, forcing it into my eyes, nose, and mouth. I spit it out, but the wind is more persistent than I am.

I think the wind doesn't like me here, I don't think the water minds, but the wind does. I don't know why the wind hates me like it does; I don't know what I did to deserve its hatred.

I lean forward and allow my toes to graze the water, its cold; my nerve endings shoot the feeling all the way to my ankles, then stops.

The water laps and flows like tongues over my toes, as though trying to get a taste of this new invader in their serenity.

The water seems to like my intrusion, making fun by creating rings around my feet, distorting my reflection, making me unrecognizable.

The wind, as if in anger, blows harder at me. And with a distorted smile playing on my reflection I allow the water to swallow me whole.

We are one.

The water plays with my body, turning it over and upside down. The rush of the water past my ears sounds like children's laughter. The water is very much enjoying its new toy, much more than the wind had.

The water, as if in glee, pushes my body back up, breaking the surface, and I allow air to grace my lungs once again.

The fish, not daring to get close to this new creature, watch with curious eyes from afar.

The water pushes my body about the surface as though they would a paper boat, the wind now calm and quiet, all I can hear is the children's laughter.