Buried Lake

There is a tree in window's view of our business. That tree is an island unto itself, surrounded by a lake. If you were to walk to it, though, you wouldn't see the lake, and looking through the window all anyone can see anyway is a full dried brush field and the tree. One would have to dig through thousands of years of Earth's intangibles; chemical and physical reactions that would slowly muddy and eventually blanket the countryside oasis.

Now, where that lake once was, a shadow looms. A shadow of the tree and its extended branches coated with green and some dry dead weight. The heat, magnified immensley by severe humidity, bores its synging power down upon the open area, but the tree; the tree stands alone. Beneath the tree and above the buried lake is the shade, forever keeping the buried lake cool and ready, should it ever rise once again.