Monday, July 03, 2006



A continual sluicing flow
escapes limestone fortresses
shaping by scouring strokes
grain on pebble
pebble on stone
stone on boulder
rasping each random rock.
Each minute action
a transformation
releasing transforming power.
A passion of flowing touch
varnishes with gleam
its vanishing containment,
and caresses its constant attention
on forgiving paths.
The froth and bubble a rabid rapid
in relentless search for softness
a fanatical exploration
of lower terraces
seeking a valley experience
like a depressive
in a spiral of fate.
Each droplet on a journey
which will see its return,
maybe not to this hill
but echo
in another geology.

1 comment:

Jeni said...

This is beautiful, Keith, and the photo is so perfect! Being a lover of "babbling brooks" as my mother called them, I would love to see this framed.

(aka Joygerm)