Still Water, Unanswered Night

Still Water, Unanswered Night

The tree holds its place like it always has,

rooted in more than the eye can follow,

its trunk marked with years that never asked to be counted,

its branches reaching without asking where they end.

A pale moon lingers close, watching without judgement,

not bright enough to comfort, not distant enough to ignore,

just present in a way that feels almost knowing,

as if it has seen this same stillness too many times.

Movement lives in the water but never settles,

shifting gently, refusing to stay in one truth,

holding reflections that break as soon as they form,

never offering a surface that can be fully trusted.

Farther back, the house breathes its quiet light,

windows glowing like something half remembered,

suggesting warmth without inviting it closer,

a life continuing just beyond reach.

Near the base of the tree, colour pushes through shadow,

small bursts of red refusing to disappear,

not loud, not demanding to be noticed,

but present in a way that cannot be ignored.

There is a space here that does not ask questions,

it does not explain what it holds or why it matters,

it simply allows everything to exist together,

without forcing meaning into every corner.

Something inside settles into that same stillness,

not solved, not answered, but quieter somehow,

as if the need to understand has loosened its grip,

and left behind something softer in its place.

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