There was a stick in a stream steeped in mud, immobile and old. There was an ordinary flea sitting on it.
The stream went under the flea on the stick slowly, and a light breeze made the leaves ruffle on a tree nearby.
There was a fish in the stream wagging its tail. The fish was by the stick in the mud and it wagged its tail slightly to counter-act the flow of the stream. The fine mud swirled at its tail.
There was a hovering bird in the sky. It moved its wings against the gentle breeze. It hovered above the stick and the flea and the fish.
This took a moment, and in a moment the bird had flown away, the fish had swum beyond the stick, and the flea was gone as if snatched away by an invisible hand.
David Hammond 