Reflections

Ripples dot the surface of the water,
Undoubtedly from a monster lurking below,
Or could it be the sky is crying,
One of many things no one knows,
Now a vessel slicing through,
No doubt the cause of the calm's stirring,
A vast expanse juts out from its periphery,
Composed of planks, decaying trees,
And all at once the air is tranquil,
Nothing but summer's soft breeze,
And all these observances seem so trivial,
Staring at one's reflection in a pond.