Drop of water

It rained last night. And delicate drops of rainwater hung on to the edges of some leaves. I stood still, admiring them. One, in particular, caught my attention. It refracted a miniature, inverted image of the tall Mast trees in the garden — a whole world held upside down in a single trembling drop. It swayed with the breeze, alive with tension. I could sense it was holding on, aware, perhaps, of the puddle waiting below. A soft, cool wind passed by, calming my sweaty summer skin. The drop quivered. To that tiny sphere, it must have felt like a storm. Still, it held on. Then, almost imperceptibly, it gave in, rolled down, fell into the puddle, sent a ripple across the surface and disappeared. It no longer existed.

And yet, watching it felt like a lifetime.