By Tess Perdue
Mountain stream of glittering diamond drench, how
far you’ve traveled, slipping down hills with reckless
laughs and tumbles. Freedom is nothing to flowing water,
child of springs and winters.
Aging bones are obstinate; leaving bed at
daybreak makes them weep. But the bed you lay in
would be better, soothe me like the rocks you’ve smoothed
over the eons.
I would like to merge with you, follow paths you’ve
cut over years through faces of rock, my thoughts slowed,
matching pace with you. I am so careworn, tired,
I could just fall asleep and flow.
