City Creek

The fingertips graze the mirror. Liquid and silver. The pressure leaves ripples against the glass. Fracturing the fragile reflection. Another life space continues beneath. Yet unaffected by the presence. Skimming and skimming. But never reaching inside. There's no need to harm it. The stream of water, so pure. No agenda to destroy what isn't theirs. The nails turn over to feel the cold. Flowing and clean. Gentle touch of jagged rocks. Tentacles of dying kelp. In the middle of this river. Feeling of life and silence.