The Pond

The wind whispers

Filling the air with

Promises

Of things yet to be.

I am quiet.

Dry grasses wave

Moving in time with Summer’s warm breath.

The sun caresses my face

And the atmosphere tastes of opportunity.

But I am quiet.

Here, the world is still.

Time has stopped.

I leave my sandals by the makeshift path

And commune with the parched earth beneath.

It is quiet.

I crouch beside the pond

Cool water brushing my fingertips as I

Trace lazy circles on the surface.

The ripples quickly dance away.

The world is quiet.

Tall, lush trees laugh,

The breeze tickling their branches.

There is only silence

Perfect, Beautiful silence.

And I am quiet