At the Pond

A poem

The moment that inspired this poem, as captured by my friend Shankar K (used with permission)

And yet again she went
to the stillness of the water
to quiet her weary, warring mind.
As she stared into its depth,
she saw a ripple and realized
that the water was listening and alive.
So she sat by it and, silently asked
if she could be washed of it all.

That was when she heard the call,
though the bird she could not see.
So she closed her eyes and heard the chirp…
then the hum, the buzz, the breeze:
sounds that wrapped and warmed her being
softly surrounding her permeable soul.
And she was gently washed of it all.