By seven the pond had rolled out a rink no thicker than a courtesy. Water striders lined up at the near bank, said a small hello to the first ripple, waited for the lily pad to nod, and only then glided once, as if that were a whole morning's program.
We asked at the kiosk. A woman with a paper cup said she had come for the ducks and stayed because the smallest skater bowed to a leaf before crossing. In the park notebook someone wrote: the ripple answered, which is more than some neighbors do before breakfast.
The keeper pinned a note to the reed: please do not splash until they finish the greeting, and kindly keep crumbs for after the glide. The next morning the same lily pad was still on duty. One strider came back, nodded twice, and left a quiet ring on the water that lasted until tea.