The Sound of the Paddle

My paddle hit the water for my first stroke of the morning at 6 a.m., the fog hiding any sign of the loons that I could hear off in the distance.

The sound of the paddle entering the water, and then the drip of the water from the blade when I finished my stroke became the rhythm line of my morning. As I moved out a hundred or so feet off shore I was completely encased in fog, and the sound became that much more intense as my sense of sight seemed useless. I began to try and figure out what the sound of the paddle going into the water sounded like, and I couldn't really put a finger on it- but it was a sound of yielding. On the back half of the stroke when the water would drip off the paddle it was a sound of making something whole again.

Over and over.

The give and take resulted in my forward movement over the water. Isn't that how it should be? Give and take resulting in progress? I think so.