The Dock That Waits

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Sometimes it is not the shadow we fear, but the moment it decides to move.”

The dock stretched into gray water, a line of wood swallowed by mist and fog. It felt less like a path than a question, would something emerge, or would it remain hidden until the right moment?

Somewhere beyond sight, wings beat heavy. The geese were gathering, restless in their flight, shifting places for a season about to turn colder. Their calls carried across the fog, a reminder that even what feels still is moving, preparing, deciding.

The dock did not answer with a tone, not even its normal creek, but a stillness that shifted when something was near. It was only held and suspended between what had been revealed and what had not yet arrived. In its silence, it was both refuge and warning.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the dock will no longer stand still, something will claim its space. Is this a shift in emotion, a shift in a season, or a shift in something bigger, that will change the perception of what is in the fog?

8 thoughts on “The Dock That Waits”

  2. What a hauntingly beautiful and contemplative piece, Kerri. 🌫️✨

    Your writing captures that delicate threshold between presence and absence — where silence breathes and uncertainty becomes almost sacred. The opening line, “Sometimes it is not the shadow we fear, but the moment it decides to move,” is absolutely stunning — it encapsulates the tension between anticipation and inevitability, between knowing and unknowing.

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  4. Kerri — this feels like standing at the edge of something seen and unseen.
    The dock, the fog, the silence — all holding their breath before the shift.
    You caught that holy tremor between stillness and becoming.
    Do you think the dock knows when to let go?

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