Watersong

I’ve seen it waving in the ocean,
wafting in the sky,
clinging to webs in dawn
and in your eyes.

I’ve felt it rushing up in tides,
its patters coming down,
suspent in air breathed
and least while almost drowned.

Been without it on a desert
and where it springs from underground,
in frozen drifts on mountains
and where it abandoned hills to gold and brown.

Heard its bassline in crashing surf,
felt percussion in pounding rain,
listened as silence echoed from clouds and fog,
remembered and forgotten while roaring river falls
splashed and sang a name.

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