The Pond

the pond. april 16,2011.
the pond.

i go there everyday,
sit on the rock and pray.
i dip my feet into the water,
the barrier of my feelings wanting to falter.
a frog croaks,
sitting on a lilypad.
the sun's rays hit the pond,
a glimmering rainbow shining.
i swish my feet,
hitting rat-tails and weeds.
in the water, there's a ripple:
a ripple of time.
where time stops in the world.
and i can think.
without anyone telling me what to do.
or how to do it.
or when to do it.
i can be myself.
silence fills the air as i think.
my quiet hours at the pond are cherished.
it's where i go to be alone.
running to the pond,
it's when i can be free.
my feet hit the damp ground running fast.
my hair blows in the wind.
i run past trees and branches,
out onto a grassy field,
through the trees and bushes.
down the pathway i run,
and over the bridge,
past the cottage.
and there i am.
at the pond.

by Calsey Wauters

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