A tall and slender tulle reed, though still,
creates small perfect ripples at the waters edge,
this is done with help from the wind,
a gentle and almost stationary wind
brought up from the depths of the sea
and met with the foreign urges of the moon.
Small fish glide in the shallows
invisible under a swath of microscopic lily-pads,
minnows/tadpoles/water-skippers/divers/trout/biters
Six different creatures easily discerned.
Feet, four of them, splash through the shallows.
This is not a violent splash,
this is not a harsh intrusion.
The feet simply needed to get to the other side,
and so they did, and then they were gone.
Sunlight light a ripe age, drips with the water, is the water.
Mountains above feed down and share a multi-faceted array of stories.
Leaves, always leaves, dirt always dirt.
Carve yourself a seat in this world, in this dirt
with a philosopher that respects your place, this place.
Invent the world,
it is in need of a new splendor.
Re-invent,
invent,
the reeds
and the frogs
are here
to watch.
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