This interview with me just appeared on Advice to Writers: http://www.advicetowriters.com/interviews/2015/9/29/thomas-swick.html
A little after nine last night I walked down to the river. As I neared the last boat docked on the canal, a bird noisily took flight. A short while later, a woman came walking her dog.
"There's usually a night heron here," she said.
"It was here," I said. "I scared it away."
"It's here every night. It sits on that line and gets fish. See them all? They're attracted to the light." And, looking in the water, I saw about a dozen small fish flittering just beneath the surface.
I returned home and went out again after ten. The night was hot - my glasses sometimes steamed up - and perfectly still. It seemed very quiet until I noticed the thrum of cars on Davie Boulevard. The water was high, a smooth black highway reflecting lights. On the other side, a sailboat sat docked in front of three tall palm trees - its mast reaching up to the fronds - in a scene right off of a vintage postcard.
I took a seat by the swimming pool, looking up at the disappearing moon. I was all by myself. I heard a sound and, turning in my chair, saw a late-night paddleboarder heading down river. A man closed the curtains of his ground-floor condo and turned off the lights. A few other units went dark. Unprompted, two lines from Nights in White Satin entered my head:
Bedsitter people look back and lament
Another day's useless toil is spent.