Beneath the looming arches of ancient raven-oak,
there murmured a pond clad in silky whispers.
Whisperings expected laughter, but echoed empty jokes.
"What did the duck say?" asked the owl.
Silence hung heavy, a cloak of unexpected yet familiar gloom.
And so it was told,
that within these brackish waters lay truths folded,
truths that shadow tramps stumbled upon, yet
dared not uncover lest the silent surface crack.