Wild Water


Looking up from the crag,

the sky is a smooth, 

unbroken blue,

smooth as clear water.

The storm, almost forgotten,

hardly a memory, 

trickling over moist rocks.


But looking 

down, 

it’s clear that the river 

remembers,

its bright blue ribbon

swirling, 

curling,

stirring up mud,

foaming white

over 

stone,

changing shape

like a living creature

or the ghost 

of one,

shape-shifting 

its way 

to the sea.




https://www.steeljackdaw.com/edition-19

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