Early morning at Seven Mile Slough. * The little secret is horrid, and it sees its own reflection in the water. Then, damn secret, it hides its face among the cattails and reeds in the silent and still slough. This is the weakness often ignored by people. Cranes wade in their grayness, perfect and complete. Whole. Free. The slough leads to the river, and the river to the ocean. The secret wades…