Muddy brown
the inert pool
in a man planted pine forest,
no fish, or water lilies,
only the stench of decaying water.

A fledgling flew,
on fluffy wings,
across its surface didn’t make it
and the pool claimed another victim.

Stillness inhaled easily,
in the thicket a sprig snapped,
no one took notice;
the sky between trees was azure.