Living out of a canoe necessitates a simple existence. The rewards of such an existence, however, are not easily measured by any earthly standard.

The birds singing you to sleep at night, the coyotes waking you in the morning. The terns endless antics, the ducks and geese hurrying you away from their babies.

And the sunsets. From whose brush and what palette did this spring? And for what other soul, besides my own,  whose curiosity has told them to look up and outside.