Ripples

The lake surfaces between mammoth bones. The valley once was a bowl for giant daisies and the conifer roots of a deepening sky. Wind-blown ripples feed the open mouths of minnows, the small waves shuffle them around like silver clouds, more billowing swells fill the red gills of the trout with a silent ecstasy. The sunlight is rich with the minuscule bones of long risen memories they are a salt-lick on the tongue. Upon the shoreline, small stones take the form of great, restless beasts, dinosaurs that once trod upon these waters and now lightly thread through a needle of timeless air.