A Stream of Beauty

July 27, 2008
It was like looking at an etching
It was dark with a deep blue color
like a clear evening sky
Its face was still and unruffled
There was an elegant wooden bridge
curved above it.
Walking on, its waters became swifter
There was a shallow fall
A relentless murmuring of waters splash down
like music in the soft breeze.
On both sides of it,
trees hung over as if pulled down
by a great burden
thrusting their thirsty roots
into the waters
their branches like silken thread
their leaves rustling endlessly
like poplars
in the crisp breeze.
Other than my own reflection
I spotted stars twinkling back at me
like white diamonds
and the moon like a great white pearl.

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