The stream is deep here.
Water runs fresh and sure of itself,
at its own pace.
Silt from years of dredging
has been left upstream,
left to float down to its resting place.
Now I see each stone;
My feet know their smoothness,
know where they turn jagged,
and where they just seem so,
under refracted sun.
I walk more slowly,
to feel the water flow around me.
No need to hurry now,
sun and shade play on my face and back.
No need to look behind;
the meandering stream follows its own course.
I move to its centre,
drink it clear-cold,
trusting the dark,
grateful for the light.
