There is a gustling of water behind
Falling with joy and roaring pride,
They danced and sang
from stone to stone, aloud.
Somewhere in the middle came a path quite narrow
Yet allowing the happy water to garrow
To the other side so shallow
With trees around to cast a shadow.
Why are you so calm, I asked.
Though you have your gustling behind
Still with ripples of falling leaves
You hit not against the rock but quiet and mellow.
She chose not to answer but pointed to the end
Where I saw a leaf swimming
To the zenith of water and tree to fend.
And the trees reflected, boldly, on our former friend.
The leaf hit the line abyss
Where the reflection ends and reality begins
Where the two merges, not to mend
And the stones border, not to blend.
So you have a rhythm, your own show;
a beautiful symphony, quiet and slow
To stop us for a moment, from our fast paw
to make us separate the trees from their mirrored tones
or… to make us ponder and forget the stones.
spottypotterson 