reflections in a pool

bare branches visible only in a reflection

By the pool a girl in wine colored pants and a gray t-shirt sat in the dirt, staring at the pool, clutching her rosary … trying to pray while tourists chatted, casually walking by.  Momentary silence allowed contemplation of the ripples in the pool.

a reflection is a mirror image, except for the quivered distortion

the breeze, the tumbling water above disturbs the placid water

below the surface lies the quiet bed; a settled place, rooted and solid

ripples cause us to break,  notice changes in the surroundings

the reflection isn’t clear, but is anything?

Ok, trying to write at Palate, I felt a bit like the girl at the pool; slightly disturbed, 

but persistent. 

The café is usually busy, but unobtrusive.  However, for a bit the place was filled with one loud conspicuous conversation.  But I noticed that as other conversations started joining the clamor, it became a pleasant tumbling of sound full of ripples.

I liked hearing the steam, it was flowing and moving.  It had life and being, action, motion … resolution; tumbling, bubbling on without stopping to ask why or where.

Missy

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