The seasoned leaves falling heavy with the morning dew onto the still waters of the lake. An old man paddles by on his canoe with thoughts of the past on the horizon. The ripples from his life reach me as I breath softly the warm steam of my tea. I too look out onto the still waters but with no paddle nor canoe. The cold grips all the creatures of the world. They have turned silent as the water. Then the sun pushes over the hill and hits the trees above. The warmth stirs all that have been still. The fire kisses my face and I close my eyes for my heart is lifted by the heat like a balloon. A new day has come.
Posted on: Sun, 22 Sep 2013 23:52:18 +0000
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