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.

Image is by Dragon77 on Pixabay