And the Water Speaks

And the Water Speaks

into your warm bath, and
the dripping faucet says
kerplunk and then ker
plink
until the drop
of a single syllable says
speak,
but you’ve nothing to say,
and so you listen
to the cliché of the clock’s
ticking, its voice projecting
from the mirror
of the medicine chest
a steady tick-tock, tick-
tock until you realize
it does not say that at all
but says, ” I’m here. I
am. I’m now. We are
.”
And you listen harder
to the talk of time
and water,
and you believe.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2012, all rights reserved. Poem included in the book Living in the Nature Poem, published June 2012 by Hiraeth Press.

~~

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