The Lake

The lake appeared as if by magic as you crest the ridge. It was in teardrop-silver in color and it was shaped like a perfectly flat disc of metal. No sound rang out from the shimmering emptiness of space around it. Monastery quiet, it was lined with pine trees and the whiff of mint wafted up to you. You decide to make your way to its decanter clear shore. The idyllic scene took your breath. Unruffled by wind or rain, it was vault still and restful. The only sounds were the bumbling of bees and the heavy echo of a raven cawing.

Out on the lake, flopping trout were slapping the surface. They were hoping to catch one of the squadron of flies that buzzed about. The heaven-leaking light added a golden tint to the face of the lake and it was paradise. A startling eureka moment came unbidden, which involved the beauty of the natural world.