The surface of the pond
is still and reflects like a mirror.
Surrounded with natures
abundance of vibrant fall colors.
The air is still
and cool with each breath.
The only sound,
the distant mountain stream
as it approaches the pond,
over stones worn smooth
by the past centuries
in this peaceful little village,
that we are fortunate,
to call “home”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem