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.
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.