Making My Peace
As night now falls on Brady’s Pond
A glimmer of red and orange take refuge
On the distant ripples where my rocks had landed
Each stone had danced like Fred Astaire
Gently tiptoeing across the surface of the water
I was reminded of the many offerings to us all each day
The light of the setting sun floated upon each ripple
Like a child’s paper boat would float ever so lightly, undisturbed
To forever be a reoccurring part of this ever beautiful serenity
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