Descriptive Writing - McKinney Falls

Walking across the white, gray stone, smooth but uneven; tripping, worn down, cautious, I crouch to keep my balance. Debris floats and catches in the waterfall, trying to pass over to stagnant pools at the edges.  Dead trees lie and lean on either side of the water, waiting to be cut and hauled away or to be pushed and pulled further into the river and down.

I remember verdant leaves on a small tree and a slender green snake dangling, balancing between fragile branches, escaping the attention and probes of visitors.

Losing our shoes, stepping through puddles and cold streams, the feeling in my toes escapes.  We sit on top of a concrete picnic table, speculating on dreams and questions.