Beside a pond, a tree reaches, its branches stretched wide and skyward, blocking the harsh cloud-penetrating rays. Locals sit on the lush grass, their backsides wet, their backs resting on the rough and slanting trunk. They watch ripples echo outward from the mouth tips of feeding fish, those concentric rings etched into in the mirrored waters - and yet moving. In time, watchers will become ripple mesmerized, and will experience the stiff twitch and head nods of an impending nap.
ripples from feeding fish
lull my mind
The pond that was mirror clear in March is obscured by a thousand April flowers. Tiny yellow flowers standing on stiff stalks. The crisscross bands that stabilize the base of each flower somehow make the water look more viscous -- like clear syrup or polished glass. These pale proto-leaves, more root than leaf, float just below the surface. Somehow, these unstable structures hold tightly -- testament to the pond's tranquility.
bloom from a clear pond
as if from glass