The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
Friday, 8 April 2011
A Love Song
The waterfall. Do you remember it?
We came upon it unexpectedly,
should not have done; it made its presence felt
in ice-clear song
long before it took our breath away
with that first view.
It was its size, perhaps, and grace
that so surprised us both.
You were the first
to think the sound of it
some kind of speech.
Not speech in all its purity:
white noise and much redundancy
made up the most of it,
but at the core of all those sounds
you heard it speak.
We put our ears to those great stones in simple fun
and you translated what the water said.
To me it simply murmured such sweet nothings
and I was more than happy with the fact.
You wanted it to tell you something more,
how we would end and what life had in store.
We found a cave of sorts among the stones
and sat and dreamed in it a while.
You sang the song you said the waters sang,
and I was happy just to hear you sing.