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A Misunderstanding

By Hiranya Mukherjee

The Moon lay deep in thought—

The lunar luminescence glistened off of

The rippling waters, agitated yet happy

I saw a fish peek its head softly

As silver slivers dissolved into its pupils

It swam hither and thither, dancing

Playing, conversing with me in a hundred ripples

I saw. I listened. I smiled.

Suddenly, my hand began to itch

As I noticed the small pebble that my fingers curled around

Something made me throw it into the lake

Perhaps hoping to make ripples of my own by skipping the stone—

To respond to that dryad of the waters.

The stone didn’t hop

It landed uneasily, making a big splash

I bit my lip

After the ripples settled

The waters lay calm



The fish was gone

The foreboding Moon now reflected in its entirety

On the harsh, clean, dark mirror….

The waters were no more agitated

No more happy.

By Hiranya Mukherjee

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