Water -- by Zephirine

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“Does madam prefer still or sparkling water?”
- well, both, since you ask


I like a deep lake, tree-fringed and muddy-edged
with ducks and swans nesting among the reeds
a few small islands floating over their reflections
and wooded hills surrounding
I like a big round pool freckled with fountain splashes
defined by stone in a well-ordered garden
with lilies and goldfish fat and flourishing
and the past echoing across its surface
I like a quiet canal cut through the countryside
a slow way between well-grazed meadows
level going from distant lock to lock
a heron staring at a passing barge

And I like brown streams that bubble over stones
rapid, energetic, noisy, shallow
that briefly jostle along stray twigs and leaves before
they cast them aside for new toys
I like a big fast river that wears its power lightly
combs long weeds in its depths and smooths stone over years
but always with a glitter on the surface
a kingfisher’s flight for decoration
I like the sea when it froths around rocks
bounces back sunlight and teases at ankles
each wave a variation of height and curvature
breaks, divides, reaches into and never quite leaves the memory...


Oh I see: you were talking about the stuff in bottles.


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