*** Random Poetry Anyone? ***
Halo Effect
Erika, I want you to imagine a beautiful scene. Think of the most serene scene of water, a pond, surrounded by steep sides completely covered with lush greenery. The steep banks are vine covered with the shallow areas artfully colored by brilliant yellow flowers bordering the water's edge. Next to the yellow petal flowers, shooting up in clustered spikes, are purple flowers clinging to a stem like so many plums. Endangered birds find this spot a sanctuary to rest and nest. The pond, created by a stream is never stagnant because the water flows continuously from the stream in and out of the quiet spot. Fifty foot poplar trees tower over the banks and reflect their majesty in the surface of the pool. The air is quiet with the fragrance of berry and aromatic volunteers.

You can reach this secluded peaceful spot by a little walk down a trail to the streams edge. The trail is hidden by wild grape vines that cover everything but the berry vines. I went there today with the little rubber boat. I went down the stream and successfully paddled over to the quiet water. In this peaceful spot I thought how can I tell you and convey the serenity and beauty in words. Could I say it is as inspiring as Walden Pond of Thoreau? Would the rapture I felt come through if I compared it to a Monet painting? Could I entice you to come here and see it for your self?

Just then a boat speeded by. He had come from the main river and was exploring all the off-shoot streams now that more water is let out of the Oroville Dam and the waterline is higher. He crashed my sanctuary and tore up the water. He saw me and didn't wave but just leaned his boat in a fast arching curve as he cut through the water. He left huge waves that knocked over the wild grasses and flowers along the banks smothering them in water, unable to recover their upright position. He had to duck under the low branches that bow out into the water at two narrow spots. It is as if he cased the joint before hand when he was speeding up and down the river he figured he could make it through those wooded spots. He went right over the low part of the beaver dam. After he passed me, he came to a shallow spot where his propellers hit dirt. They stirred up a lot of mud, which turned the water brown. The stream has not yet after a week, recovered from the shock and impact of his quick visit. The mud flowed darkening the stream for close to thirty minutes and the purple flowered plants still lay on their sides washed over in the shallow mud.

I tied up the boat and decided to walk or swim the rest of the way down by the beaver dam. I was afraid that in the boat, I would loose control and be swept out into the fast current. While I was walking down stream in the still muddy water, I marveled at the eddies and the water surface. An unidentifiable clump of some thing floated by. I thought it was crud or fungus. Then something which reminded me of the spiders I had recently concentrated on floated by; I felt a fear go through me when it turned out to be harmless. Then I noticed something I could not explain. All around my shadow's head, in the muddy water appeared to be radiating like spokes on a wheel creating a halo effect in the light-refracted water.

Why was it there? Would it show up on other parts of the body? I held out my arm, but its shadow had no halo. This was not an aura or illusion. This was refracted light. But why did it appear only from the shadow of my head? And why did the lines seem to all come from a central source?

I turned around to go back up stream to make my way back toward home. The water was still muddy but, now facing the sun, I saw no shadow and no halo. I trudged some time before it dawned on me. The sun was glaring its reflection in my eyes. It looked like a shattered fracturing sphere bobbling across the water's surface. Oh, that must explain the halo. Sure enough, when I turned around with my back again to the sun, my shadow again had the halo effect in the water. Why the radiating lines, I do not know, but the sun was definitely the source. Another one of life’s mysteries solved, at least partially.

Picture of beaver pond from the little stream

      ( 11/29/2004 11:58:00 PM ) San_dra#

(0) comments <$BlogCommentDeleteIcon$>
Post a Comment

Poetry is cool. So are short stories. Care to join in on the rantings? Email me at lmalo7fc@mwc.edu

what the hell is this?:
Welcome to Random Poetry, a page for amature poets to post their work for review by other amature poets. It doesn't matter what type, genre, etc. it is, as long as you feel like calling it poetry feel free to post it, and to comment on other's poetry. We can all learn from each other.

Smell the Storm Stirring


All poems are the property of their original authors, and may not be reproduced without permission.

Powered by Blogger