Ferns cover water; water covers the ground. Heat relents; air moves with a fragrance of plants. Silence is insistent, bold, though wood ducks and herons freely call. An empty alligator hole rests secretly among the cypress knees, its dark pool occupied by the occasional minnow’s lowly shadow. A wood stork pokes about in the shallows, encased in soft sunlight, working its foot into the bog, it plods, raising one wing at a time. Ball moss and orchids clasp to trees. A dragonfly alights and all the world is green, on all sides: green. Lizards stretch their crimson throats. A woodpecker works on a cabbage palm and something else taps nearby: the emails I ought to write, the phone calls I feel I owe, but they ripple away like stones. The night heron adjusts his gold crown.
I like "they ripple away like stones."
Perfect for these hot humid days...(snapping fingers).