Water over stone speaks to me
Voices in my head or reality?
Bubbling, babbling, a fluid oration.
From liquid, an opus of reverberation.
Closer I get, speech becomes blurred.
A child, a crowd, an implicit word?
Retreat a step, lucid communique
Desire to immerse, ingest the parley.
Sit between banks in tears from on high
Hear her voice in the brook as I try
To understand, and follow the sentence at hand
A cacophony of silence sifted through sand.
Meaningless, mindless, numbing address
Just what’s so important she’s trying to stress?
Words from the distant, ghostlike, perchance
Wispy and passionate midsummer’s dance.
My ears reject resonance, but the mind draws it in
To decipher the past and perceive an old sin.
Apologetic, pleading, no mold to this play
Just babbling on, with no true thing to say.
Hands growing numb from water’s icy hold
Must leave this brook, for so I’ve been told
That mystery lives in the motion of hearing
Of water’s sweet journey beyond my heart’s clearing.
Flowing water sometimes speaks. The creek on the edge of my property is especially talkative...