The bridge

The phone had died while taking pictures in the cemetery, so our anthem song was lost to us.  We made our way down the gravel road and turned around at a bridge.  The boys had asked to make their way down to the stream. The muddy banks showed us that the stream could get much higher, I suspect it’s a run-off from the lake at the national park.  Ankle high today, it’s waters really didn’t hide any secrets, but the magic it promised drew the boys and I through the underbrush and up ditch banks to make our way down there.  Cuckle burrs covered our pants and socks, and there is a tiny shell in my car’s console.