a water sign
we are sent by water
into this world of air
only to be
drawn back to its
feathery tangles
whirling eddies
current and tide
wave train that crashes folds into
a whorling pool foam granished
after a long race over cold stones.
each encounter is a reminder of
liquid life that speaks in a language
of living motion and primal buoyancy
where water was mouthed first
before air, before sound only
the measured meter of the heart
the arbitrary noises of human plumbing.
our random beginnings
a discharge
in the transparent flow
of the ancient element
to live then is
to give drink of the essential knot
to water something
down, to submerge it
in the flood taken
from a colorless source
or
a bottle of it bought off a duck’s back
poured carelessly down the drain
to eventually run under the bridge
or over the dam.
Sorry to have been hibernating.
Keep a tight line,
Steve Therrien
