Coniston

Swaths of purple ripple, breeze blown, down the hillside to the water's edge as the early morning sunlight splatters her span with scattered diamonds. Majestic, as old as the granite outcrops surrounding her, she shimmers, 'til the weather takes a downturn. Afternoon thunder and heavy gusts whip her to a frenzy, as the mountain goats and hikers hurry to take shelter, her complexion now grim and forbidding. The storms disintegrate, the evening sky turns red and gold, and peace resumes its reign. This princess, both petulant and calm, assumes a sheen like polished glass, a stillness, a silence, in absolute darkness, just waiting for sunrise to sparkle again.