The Language Of Water

THE LANGUAGE OF WATER You wait by the lake alone except for your self & your reflected self as if the landscape dreamt you up. Your thoughts a flock of birds scattered across the failing light. Clouds laugh run along the ground on tiny unseen feet. Trees stand on their heads wriggling their toes in the air & you become as two both real & unreal as if a living dream. You hum Pachabel's Canon as sun & horizon listen. Not bad for a human they both agree. It's as if I need a key to enter this magical dimension as if I have to invent one ...a magical one. I take a little stone whisper to it the secrets of flight and teach it how to say: "Splash! " in the language of water. The little stone transformed with its new knowledge does as it is told shatters this mirror world opens the dream and I enter bewitched as any fairytale Prince my voice calling your sweet name with longing you turn & we embrace kiss & look upon ourselves as the dream remakes itself stitching itself together with silence. An old artist (unknown to us then) places us the lovers at the center of his composition adds this final brushstroke and pleased with his efforts folds up his chair packs up his paints & easel smiles at our kisses wishes us a goodnight and is gone eaten by the twilight. Our laughter frail & fragile lingering on the night air playing peek-a-boo with the moonlight.