I listen to the water’s song.
Feel its wetness, coldness,
creating joy bubbles
of fizzing white lather.
Its sound – like static,
inside cavernous waves of nothing
and touch it.
I’m sitting on the balcony of a charming ski lodge. There is a stream that runs right in front of my suite. The view and the sound are mesmerizing.
I’ve run away from home for a few days to the ski valley in Taos, New Mexico. I love it here. The warm breeze is cooler than the hot breeze of the south, the mountains are green and luscious like something fresh you’d want in a salad. And there’s nothing to do but enjoy the music.