The Ferryman declares victory
The Ferryman catches me up and lifts me into the air. For a moment I am completely airborne, my hair flying out in all directions. Then I am down and we are dancing, spinning, holding each other against the centrifugal pull and laughing, laughing.
It’s a harvest dance. There is bonfire, sparks flaring into the dark. There is music. And there is dancing.
I stop to catch my breath, pressing my hand to my heart. The celebration is maybe a little bit out of proportion. A lot of noise for something so small. I begin to feel sheepish. “I should probably go back to work. There’s a lot that needs doing.”
The Ferryman thinks I’m funny and splashes water at me. I splash him back. It isn’t long before we both go into the river.
Oh I am all rattly and glad. I am all shimmery and glittery and staccato.
It’s a launch!
OOO
The Spirit of Center, the infinite cycle in the stillness, has something to say about all this in the comments…
dream stories 
Why do you want to leave in the middle of the dance?
It isn’t really a harvest is it? It’s a new beginning. A launch. I should be out there, planting seeds. Not whooping it up like some great fool with castanets.
It IS a harvest, the culmination of long work. You’re right it’s not the end of anything, but it is a harvest nonetheless. And you know what comes after harvest. There’s the business of seed storage and cleaning up and settling in for a rest. Why do you think you can skip that part and jump straight to seedlings? You do that and you’ll condemn those tender bits to an icy death, guaranteed.
Dance until the dance is done. Then have yourself a nice nap.