The fish pond lies embracedBy a cradle of stillness . . .

Gentle autumn windsRustle through its lacy reeds,Rippling the cool water,Caressing the banksAs tenderly as a finger on a rose.

Rushes adorned withShimmering water-pearl dressesBend over the still water,Peering at a wavy reflection ofA gold and crimson sky.

The soft blanket of nightGently lays its cheek onto the pondAs sounds of crickets heraldA warm, serene night.