Talking Fish Blues

On a sunny day in the West, where the bronze Goddess always felt comfortable, the trees admired their reflections in the water. To the observer they just stretched high into the blue and continued going right down into the green soup. They stood on century duty over the life there, guarding it, keeping it. They were both home and food, essential for the food chain and maintaining the habitat. They were old and their spirits mostly slept, a hundred years or a day was much the same to them. It was in moments like this that the woman in her was able to register the beauty of nature, not only that but admire it. The Gods knew that her life was nothing if not a continous test where she learnt the most valuable lesson of all. You cannot lean on anyone, you must stand on your own legs and that the ones that survive are not the strongest, not even the smartest, but the ones who adapt the fastes to any particular change in their habitat.

When she was alone, she was able to take her guard down; something she has not done with anyone other then her closest kin. Her gaze fell upon the lake, still lost in thoughts, below the water surface was a fish: small, barely a dart of silver, yet fast. Without visible effort it moved from plain sight, glimmering in the early morning sun. Now if only she knew how to fish or actully catch anything subacvatic.