Rachel Brown's Poem

The quintessential spring day cannot be this perfect, I think to myself. The perfect temperature, three fluffy white clouds perfectly placed in the sky; even the squirrels are in better moods today. As I look around I see the fountain central to the pond. I watch the droplets surge from the bottom of the fountain to their peak and sprinkle outwards towards the surface of the water. These droplets go through such an evolution from together as one, to individual beads to together as one once more. The beauty is at the peak; the droplets almost pause as if to relish in the moment of being so high in the air before they fall back down to the rest of the water. I wish the droplets could stay up there, I wish I could stay up there, forever paused.