Friday, March 20, 2009

Poetry from a far off age.

A stone, if thrown correctly,
Can send shards
Flying in all directions, chased by
A spray of clear water.
The curves and swirls of a
Windswept lake
Keep changing and reforming,
A testament to the power
Of the unknown.
Silent steps under
Gleaming stars bring the lake into
Ice brings winter in its wake.

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