Sitting on the bank of Mississippi

She gazed at the ripples on Mississippi. A twig floated towards her. It must have fallen off a nearby tree. Shrubs and tall trees lined the bank of Mississippi as it snaked through this small mid-western city of America. She watched the twig as it danced on wavelets that glimmered under the afternoon sun. She wondered to what kind of tree it once belonged. An balsam fir, a sugar maple or a weeping willow? She knew not the answer. She continued gazing at this small wonder of nature until it reached the rock on which she was sitting with a book clutched to her chest.  

*Photo taken by the writer