Ripples

Under the Awning of Fall, solitary, with golden streams silently dispatched into space, I walked and shared an hour. Wandering, perhaps I could glimpse a tiny corner of this day, further from human law, outside in the greater Halls, a place where beauty and chance encounters are found. And so, on the side of a tiny stream, inside the leafy screen of yellow and red, the gentle touch of raindrops played upon the flow. I stood awhile, watched as ripples formed, each taking turns in being born. Each successive drop of rain etched new patterns on the flat surface of water. All were different, yet the same in their origin; Inside each ripple's center was quiet, while the waves expanded outwards and then dissolved. Odd assortments of leaves hugged the sides of the bank and the smells of earth was most distinct. Yet all was in a flux, as another season of time had come.