Hundred Islands

A scatter of jade, a breath held, a hundred, maybe more, emerald humps rising from the still, blue plate. Limestone bones, gnarled and ancient, ribs of the earth, thrust skyward, cloaked in stubborn green. Each a secret, a pocket of sand, a whisper of wave, a rustle of leaves, a story etched in the rock. Caves, dark mouths, breathing the tide, echoes of bats, and the drip, drip, drip, of time's slow carving. Sunlight, a shattered mirror, dancing on the water, reflecting the impossible green, the improbable blue, a kaleidoscope of islands. Fishermen's boats, tiny, bright slivers, tracing paths through the maze, a fragile dance, between rock and wave. Hundred islands, a fragmented dream, a puzzle of paradise, each piece a world, a moment suspended, in the vast, silent sea. ©bfa040325