photo credit Arvydas Baltinas on Unsplash

Science tells me that I am mainly a body of water.

60% or so at my age.

Which explains why there are some days

that I wake feeling like a mighty roiling ocean, 

powerful and deep, holding a myriad of marvels

and untold beauty beneath, dancing to the call

of the moonlight and reflecting all the magical

rainbow glimmers of the sun.

Then there are others when I’m more of a narrow creek

trickling down a gently sloping mountain, 

happy to fill the air with a quiet symphony 

of lapping over rock, and communing with frogs and minnows. 

In between I’m a stoic river with a mission 

to carry all of the barges and salmon I can, 

feeling necessary and important

when considered useful.

Last come the lonely puddle days, 

thankfully fewer and farther between. 

Muddy days when I feel stepped on 

and splashed apart, drops of me landing everywhere

other than where what’s left of me was. 

And then I remember to rise. 

Into the air to join all the other tiny bodies, 

molecules who condense and with the help of others, 

become themselves again and have the invisible strength 

to hold life, nurture growth and smooth rock.

Bruce Lee had it right. “ Be water my friend.” Flow…


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