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Leveling, eddying, streaming, bubbling
Little protein? Nothing. Carve us in tenths, more than nine water. Each swim in our very own pool. Don’t know how an illusion. Very pool holding water is water whirred with sand. Watery microbes between us and drowning.
trickling, gurgling, flooding, spouting
Blood, veins, and arteries that pipe? Water. Pipe breaks down to water. Ask about skin? Water made visible by scales do double-duty as lifeguards. Scales – you guessed – are more water than not. Look up, down, in, out, around. Vessel and vesseled owe colorless liquid holds, shapes, flows, quenches, leeches, feeds self-serving mouths. Every globally-warmed water-divided, water-connected, water-supported continent that shifts. Nations rise and fall not by oil but H-little-2-add-O. Myth says we shed traces of gills and fins and our need to school and left. Sure. Like we can separate. Water can leave, plants and animals stay to dust Mars Two.
streaming, tumbling, sluicing, whirling
Pretend we crawled, crabbed, and-or floated or allowed ourselves to wash onto land did not stand on, was not more than half, water. No one waved to the waves that bore, cradled, and rocked. B’bye, Nurse Sea, B’bye Being buoyed, hello, Iron Rock Cafe. Away green, away blue, we are vested in brown. Ties gray. Naturally, we dragged green to shore on sleighs with fin-made limbs, forgot water made. Gave no thanks for heart, cerebrum, liver, lungs, sex. Liquid that insured we did not shrivel and char, hide, arrogance, and all. Never mind that holes in the sky love to vaccuum. These shells we have come to oil and powder and shrink and stretch and have cut to shape possess features only water could have known to imbue. Elements have been ebbing and flowing for Moon for all time. Find them in a sunfish. Elephant-flea-adder-orangutan-iguana-giraffe- hummingbird-macaw-butterfly-eel. Water goes around comes around, imagine that. See litter, see poison. Warning: Contamina–. . .
One theory of evolution is that we emerged from the sea and in the process of that evolution, developed lungs to breath. The human body is composed of 75% water; we need it to survive, though we don't breath it, we would die without it. In view of the recent storms we've had, I wonder if it's not calling us back. Not too long ago, I went to a park right here in Indiana which had at one time been the ocean bed. It almost feels far fetched to think that the midwestern US rose from the ocean. It was an incredible experience stepping down below the park and seeing the rock formation the cuts across the layers of dirt, the sand; it was at the same time, frightening: It crossed my mind then, that the idea of returning to where we came from, may not too far fetched after all. And you're right: like the formation on the seashell; we don't think about the many signs of excistance, water has left on its wake. And we're not even going to talk about pollution and all the garbage chemicals we pour down our throats to ingest the H2O we need to survive.
You know what you've done, don't you Pea? You've brought up a mighty important subject, here -- you're sending me to the library. :-)
Water is the oldest form of transportation. Without it, the trade scene that sustained ancient lives would have collapsed. The canoes would not have been birthed from cedar or birch. The Mayflower would not have made its pilgrimage. Noah's Ark would not have warehoused all of the earth's animals, and without the Big Drink, we would not be here. Why do we not take better care of the element that has kept us here on this planet? Recycling rain water in a wooden barrel used to be a healthy thing. Now the acid rain is brain-frying. Today's liquid life is poisoned, mercury-tainted and oil spills. I kind of like looking at the waterfowl, the teals, the geese, the ducks, the loons, even if it is in National Geographic.
A brilliant incandescent stream of poetic consciousness that sidesteps abstraction to exercise the true passion of a concerned ecologist and the wide-eyed humanity-healing vision of the poet that you clearly are. Powerful, insightful, precise, and gorgeous.
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
A book of nature inspired poems and essays, written from the heart and soul of a life-long nature, animal, and wilderness lover, and dedicated to today’s children - Earth's only hope for a better tomorrow.
This book won 'The Poetry Category'
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You know what you've done, don't you Pea? You've brought up a mighty important subject, here -- you're sending me to the library. :-)
Carmen
Regis
Sage
Good write, Pea!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)
Best regards,
Leland