the lullaby of running water

the fog hung heavy on the escarpment—
wet, dank and indecipherable in its grayness

lower down the winding, narrow road
the fog retreated to a cloudy clear day

the car splashed through running water
between crumbling dry stone walls
thick with dirty green mossiness

miniature waterfalls crossed the road,
gurgling merrily down the hill

leaving the car in the valley bottom,
the silence struck

curlews cried

the lullaby of running water
permeated the quiet

the beck was full of peat-colored water
rushing down the stone-lined channel
foam hugged the corners

eddies of detritus clung to the bank—
a visible, risible chuckle of life-giving liquidity

climbing the steep bank,
squelching upwards in mud-slicked boots.
panting, struggling;
heavy jacket, heavier by the minute

all for the view—view indeed!

the vast water lay quiet
black
deep

unemotionally flat without ripples

beautifully indifferent
waiting, waiting,
for a cat’s paw of wind-induced wavelettes

the eternal mystery of life encompassed
in one inspiring view

—bob ellis