Still water in a glassy state,
a child of the immobile air,
reflecting the beauty
of the surrounding elements,
luxuriating in the early morn,
a lazy lake with no dreams,
no where to go, nothing to do,
vulnerable to a falling leaf,
to a drop of rain,
the breeze, the wind, the storm,
the temper of the clouds,
the sultan of the lower skies,
 
the coming of a forceful entry,
the alarm of an outside stimulant,
a wind blown acorn from a tree,
a force to distort the
smoothness of the surface,
to disfigure the mirrored beauty
of the surrounding elements,
the nervousness of the
agitated waters,
a ripple that became a
ring of ripples,
a gradual expanding from the center,
a growing of the heights,
the transformation
of a ripple to a wave,
a reaching up into the air
to meet the wind and rain,
a dashing to the shoreline,
a beating against its banks,
then a waiting out
for the storm to clear,
then a dying down to a ripple,
then the lazy smoothness,
then the mirrored elements again,
then back to the beauty of the lake.

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