there's an emptiness
about this hollow vessel
it's carefully filled each morning
a clean ladle is hung over its side
a notebook
and a pencil
are left for the stories of passersby
through the day
it's tipped
this way and that
held by warm and cold hands
eyes of all colours and shapes
look into its depths
depths that feel
the breath of the passersby
the travellers
depths that darken
through the day
as the level of water
and the sun
meet at the cool
empty
horizon
5 comments:
Such a clean, unfussed, beautiful piece of writing, Steven. A real joy to read.
I felt a large, wooden ladle in my hand and cool water, sounds of ladling - and the word-journey took me far.
rachel thankyou very much. the photograph was taken yesterday just after i got home from school. it was a shadow on the wall - i'd not seen it before. the words arrived shortly afterwards . . . they're about this blog. steven
valerianna - of course you did because you are a sensitive and sensory person! you see so well! steven
the writer and the reader
rest
with a sunset cocktail...
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