A ripple interrupts the peace—
the peace of the quiet blue water.

A pebble stirred the pot,
the wind felt it hard.

Yet the water slows to a stop.

Waiting in silence—
it’s hands feel tied.

An entire day passes without retaliation.
Peacefully watching:
as more and more pebbles are skipped across the surface
and then, eventually, penetrate the surface
and sink into the heart of the water.

Some penetrate faster than others,
but they all eventually hurt.

The next day, the water isn’t so calm.

Waves crash softly on the ground—
none further than fifty yards from shore,
all soft and patient,
trying to talk sense into the pebble throwing thugs.

Yet another pebble is thrown.

The pebble turned into a boulder,
but the water wasn’t going to stand by.

Ten foot waves are seen the next day;
a wave beats down on the sand,
breaking it down into millions of pieces.

The thing about waves is they retract before they get stronger.

The wave pauses before beating down—
thinking about how to make the perfect impact.

The thing about waves is they never stand still.