Waves change course when they meet the shore,
Sending rough ripples that force Mother Duck to redirect
Back to the glass (from whence she came)
That reflects only shadows, the sky, and the sun.
A single branch erupts from the murky lake floor.
It has survived storms and dares stand erect.
Critters tiptoe the beach they know will wax and wane,
Playing til the next rain they know will come.
These distinct things are not seen by most.
Only when you’re quiet. Only when you’re close.