what story is written
in this softly threaded
tracery?
did this water once pass beneath
the bow of a roman trireme?
perhaps it cooled
paul bowles' lips
as he sat in
a moroccan bar?
or could it have fallen as rain
on my parents before i was born?
here it is.
a thin cracked
frozen film
on a road.
filled with stories.
15 comments:
And filled with adventures to come.
But for now, this ice is content to spark imaginations around the world, like a flash of lightning reflected in the eye of a golden fish.
I love that the cracked ice is filled with stories; your parents before your birth, Paul Bowles in a Moroccan bar.
You have such a rich imagination, Steven, and bring the human world in line with nature. Thanks.
hey dan, nice! everything is a jumping off point for the available imagination. entire universes emerge from within a puddle - if you want to see them! steven
hi elisabeth - thanks for that! i think that reality - human/natural is as fluid as air and that all things are entry points or exit points for another reality. imagination allows for those portals to open. have a peaceful day. steven
Ah, water! Endlessly fascinating in all its forms and moods.
Stories frozen in time, Steven. Waiting for the spring before being freed move on to new adventures, perhaps to fall as rain on the heads of your future grandchildren to tell them of the time their grandfather paused to notice.
That's a wonderful, lyrical way to look at water. Your poem is so far-reaching. Thanks Steven for this expansive start to my day.
This is beautiful, Steven. Happy full moon, happy Bridgid weekend, happy to read your poetry, always.
Where did that water travel before it arrived in front of you? Good question.
It looks like a road map or rivers seen from space.
Ooo, I love the possibilities!
Yes - the idea that all the water on earth is the same water that has always been there is food for thought, isn't it?
I so love the connection that you have made- rain falling on your parents before you were born touched me deeply- I have something wonderful to think about all day- thanks!
Oh, I love the thought of that!
I often stare at our huge pecan tree out front and wonder who sat under her, shaded from hot southern suns? What happened to the kids who swung from her branches? What does she think when I walk past and actually say out loud, "Good afternoon Tree!"? :)
What a nice way to start a weekend...thanks!
Hello there Steven
your photo looked to me like prehistoric cave paintings, etchings on grey rock....
I have these same kind of thoughts when I touch the stones of old buildings and walls...who went before...It reminds me of my smallness and insignificance in the big picture....
Happy days
NICE HEADER!
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