Ripples

Ripples by Edmund Siejka In the dim twilight He searched the lake Amazed by its size And strength. Standing Motionless An easterly wind suddenly came up Gusting across the lake Pushing ripples toward the shore. Running his hand over his short-cropped hair He let his eyes drift To the grayish horizon As he did, he felt a sense of anger and frustration Something about this scene Seemed odd, even distracting And yet in a disturbing way he felt somehow grateful for it. The lake Was his wife’s favorite place The brief newspaper article Announcing her death Only mentioned complications after a brief illness But provided little details. Wasn’t her life more than that? A wife, a mother, a friend, a good neighbor Three children And the only person he confided in. Feeling guilty He left the lake area. Stopping to look back He imagined she was still out there Standing by the lake’s edge Waiting for the wind To skim across its smooth surface Pushing ripples toward the shore. He seemed to think about it for a moment Then a faint smile crossed his lips Remembering how she would throw stones Into the farthest part of the lake Making each pebble A wish for her children.