Water

the liquid

sometimes silver

at times brackish

sometimes seeding, straining

(silver – mercurial wetness 

of broken feelings

in the eye)

glass

on which our dreams sail

like little boats

we come, we bow, we wait

excited

as kids for sprinkles

we wade gingerly, we surrender

& sparkle
momentarily

we feel the lower and higher currents

twirling & writhing

like eels

around our legs & middle

patches & glints
dancing
the tune
of upper & lower lights

i feel the tow, the backpull

the wash and slurp

i swallow; am swallowed

while small birds cavort

high up

against the summer blue

the draw 
of plugholes

to new insights

phases that dribble in, stumble, then swell

the liquid of our dreams; then ... 
moments of

waking

into solidness, constituents, continents

we live, pulsing, flickering

beside the river

within us

F.M. Oct 2017