Pond Ripples

They are always young
And beautiful
Shining, glimmering, perfect, quiet concentric rings
Gliding away from you as they grow…
Into nothingness

Be like them
Things fall upon the places they are born
And things befall them
Yet they are quiet…
Their whole, short beautiful lives

Things penetrate them, big and small
Falling to the floor of the body that makes them

Deep, below…
Remaining on the bottom
Eternal reminders

Carl Atteniese

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