The silence before the storm feels like a held breath

I was on the river this morning, just after dawn, and the air was so still it felt like the world was waiting. A heron stood knee-deep in the shallows, motionless as if time had folded in on itself. Then, without warning, the wind came up—not strong, but enough to ripple the water and send the reeds whispering. I thought: that’s what it must be like to stand at the edge of something vast and not know whether to move toward it or away. The clients today are all eager for quick fish, but the river doesn’t care about their schedules. It moves when it wants to.