A Year of Poems – Day 229

The quiet stillness at the pond
Mud underfoot, water to the neck
The gentle sway of bugs across the air
Each a separate bob on a thousand pendulums
Zipping this way and that
Determined in their singularity
Conglomerated into randomness.

That stillness buzzes with a thousand noises
And within a thousand buzz
Even in the stillness of fishing
Surrounded by family as thick as water
Still questions of the future and past
Worries, second guesses, and a hundred other pendulums
Swing their way through the resting mind
Churning the water till the mud swirls

So the future ever swirls at its calmest
Filled with the intertwining roots of lily pads
While hiding behind simplicity –
A calm surface, pretty flowers, and a slight breeze.

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