One cloudless night, we find the moon, in mysterious harbour.
Lustrous and belonging too, it carries the tide, high and full.

Waters fresh, teased, with gentle lapping motions,
tickle the banks that seldom meet the rise.

Lucid lips forage new grounds, high in the shallows,
brimming with anticipation for finding their tender morsel.

The pendulous, bowing branches of the Willow, inspire the waters to ripple, decidedly, as they sway and gently caress the mirrored surface.

Formed out of darkness, the leafy shades of subtle steely grey, stand like monumental, silent witnesses, of the eternal ebb and flow.

Basking, in the moonlights pearlescent glow.

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