Once the surface rippled
from the landing of a bird,
a breeze’s gentle touch,
a pebble tossed.
Now the pond holds firm and frozen,
moved no longer by such actions.
Soon the sun will work its magic
and the pond’s potential
to be ruffled by
such meetings
will slowly be restored.
JDG
This is such good writing, Joan.
A pleasure.
Big Hugs
john
LikeLiked by 1 person