Water And Skin





Widdershins, barefoot, slowly walk around the block, around the lanes that lay around the fields, warm road sometimes flat, sometimes not. 
Kick small stones from a bold instep.
Pods of storm cross overhead.
The maize crop has grown, enough to whisper secrets. Leaves shiver, clustered like spears.
Sun on puddles makes them shining pieces of dropped sky. 
In the river tethered clouds skim and bump. 
Here, flip-flops in hand, just walking, listening, absorbing.

Later, hear the wind shake; shake the light from the sky.
Rayburn lit.
Water hot.
Light a candle, take a bath.
Water on skin. Rain on glass.
See steam droplets on tiles, sparkled by a naked flame.







Comments

Geo. said…
This is beautiful, Lisa. I have always considered widdershins a form of defensive footwork that has served me to advantage the few times in my life I've been physically attacked. But to join it to the contrariness of a storm creates a fluid motion and a vista of remarkable beauty. You've certainly expanded a definition for me. What an impressive poem.
1 August 2015 at 04:25
Lisa Southard said…
Widdershins can be used in defence or attack. I'm glad it has served you well. And thank you :-)
1 August 2015 at 19:35
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