It is World Poetry Day, and so I’m sharing a poem that I wrote back in March 2023. It was first drafted in a poetry class that I sometimes manage to attend online.
The water speaks to me with gentle glee in the highland hills, dancing merrily over rocks and pebbles, twisting like a gavotte dancer through the rushes kissing the noses of ewes and lambs as they bend to drink their fill. The water speaks to me with foam and bubbles, shouting as it tumbles from waterfall heights to turbulent pools sometimes dark with a storm-filled belly sometimes golden with stolen sunlight ever moving, down, down, down The water speaks to me with ripples and waves, with lazy bends and narrow hub-bub channels journeying forward to the call of the sea giving up its purity for the taste of salt identity lost in the vastness of the ocean.