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4th Hour


It’s a ripple in still water The ring starts small, Disturbing the calm waves Yet it touches us all

Swish, swish Of the clear water As each ring grows bigger

It stretches and reaches Continuing until it achieves a rock or shore It flows under a lily pad or two Under the flowers and touching everything in its path

The wind helps it And the flow of the water itself pushes it along

Almost encouraging it To influence every bend and arch

Eventually all have been touched by the miracle Some deny it, like the rocks and shore Others glide on it like flowers and leaves But in the end, the water calms and continues to flow

As if it never happened.


Metaphor Poem

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