Submerged Forest

I carried a polished brass disc down to the lowest limestone water-step. The afternoon glare was bright, but the canal beneath the timber gondola slip remained locked in emerald murk. Deliberation was unnecessary. Bracing my boots against the slick mortar, I angled the curved metal plate against the sun with both gauntlets, driving a concentrated beam of light down through the surface chop. The golden flare cleaved the dark brine. Revealed in the glow, rows of petrified larch pilings stood rigid against the bed, encrusted with pale barnacles and trailing green weed. The city anchors its weight upon a silent, sunken forest.