The Mallard Shawl


The sharp cold of the morning stings the sleep out from my eyes.  The gray waters expand out before me and I can feel the slow sloshing pressure against my still legs tucked warmly into neoprene.  The retriever waits in as much anticipation as me, visibly quivering and sweetly whining as if to whisper, “we are ready!” As the sky bleeds into a blush pink they start to come.  Their blurred silhouettes take shape as their voices echo my calls. 


A gray cashmere shawl, fringed with gray and blue Mallard duck feathers.