By C. A. Dahlstrand
A visitor stood transfixed at the Lake Michigan overlook. Breezes rustled through the trees. Were they whispers? A coverlet of sunlight sparkled across the water. Was it woven with diamonds? Three white pelicans flew overhead, soon followed by three bald eagles. Wonder, like an exotic fragrance, suffused the air.
She turned and pointed beyond the shoreline as her husband approached. “Three swordfish were leaping high, sheathed in pure gold.” She glanced at her husband expectantly. “That was not simply magical,” she asserted. “It was magic.”
“Sure, I believe it,” her husband replied with a sideways glance. “I just don’t believe you.”
And I choose to belief her. A magical story.
Oops. Believe her, that is.
Great title! And I choose to believe her, too. I also love “coverlet of sunlight.” Congratulations!
Thanks, all!
Magic is as magic does- hopefully for that relationship, too.