Walking up from the river with a bottle in hand, my shoes squelch and crunch in the gravel. Warm wind blows over the mouth of the bottle, and it starts to sing.
I think your cabin must be right near my grandmother’s cabin. (Hers is in Villa Grande.) That color of the water and the bushes remind me of every summer I ever spent there. Ah, lovely.
I closed my eyes, and I was there.
Excellent imagery, from the squelch to the singing bottle. Thank-you :)