On a Stone's Throw

A stone is thrown.
Plop.
Ripples now. The lotus sways a little. Reflections of the trees are still steady, a little distorted though.
And lo. There's some wind in the leaves, filling the empty spaces.
A butterfly has come from nowhere. White and Yellow. Buzzzzzz. Some noisy insect in the grass declares its right to freedom of speech. Yes little one, you are the king here.
And Splash; ducks have flown in, stirring the water. Ripples of fluttering wings. Few dives. And now they have settled, wafting gently with their red feet. Our King here has become silent now. Perhaps tired. The delicate one flips about upon the blades of grass.
And only the colors of pervading green, stirr the silence now.
All that on a stone's throw ! Ha !