The lake is placid with small ripples

An impressionist painting in blues and whites

Amplifying echoes of distant voices

Like a scent memory pulls in the past

And the sky is still above it all

As if even the wind holds its breath

To see what we might do;

But we remain immovable

For fear of disturbing this moment

Like a rock thrown to the glass waters

Smashing reality to pieces

And changing it forever.