At the back of one’s mind lies a pond

Whose smooth surface is pleasantly unperturbed

By the glittering schools of fish that flash

Beneath the crystalline blue waters.

 

Although there are times

When the breeze that sways the cypress branches

Threatens to uproot the surrounding forestry

As a premonition of the forthcoming storm.

 

And then the rain comes,

And the downpour shatters the glass

That had sat ever so calmly on the placid waters.

The fish rush to their burrows,

The cypress lift their branches in mercy, and

The tranquility of the pond is broken.

 

And yet,

Serenity ebbs at the water’s edge,

Still, despite the raging storm

Decimating the pond’s core,

Ripping its surface into flying shards

That leap to the air to escape the rain’s fury.

 

Still, the water’s edge remains calm,

Grounded near the grassy plain and

Comfortable betwixt knobby cypress roots

As it waits the storm’s vengeance.

 

And then the rain stops,

And the gray storm clouds transform into white cotton

That reflects the emerging light of the sun

Onto now pristine waters below.