Rivers and creeks and lakes and ponds have all learned one magic trick—they paint themselves with sky and pull down onto themselves images of everything that attempts to loom above their flat and self-seeking selves, grasp those pictures, fracture them with every small shimmer, every wavelet, every radiating ring of surface tension disturbed by leaf fall or raindrop, become the carnival hall of mirrors that show the world how fragile even mountains can be when brought to water’s level.

Bio: Roy Beckemeyer