The Water

I will run with the rabbits,
Scared out of my mind
But sooner or later,
I’ll turn and stand my ground.

To the cornfields,
So far from the city,
The only place I can hide.

To the water,
I have to jump in,
It is the only way to avoid my reflection.

Balancing is a gift of mine,
On tip-toe at the edge of the water,
Exhaustion ready to push me in.

Anxious butterflies grow restless in my chest,
And escape out my mouth.

See the moon watching,
And it’s chorus of stars,
Suspended in the sky,
Laughing in spite of it all.

The trees, our composers,
Directing the symphony of crickets,
With the fire-flies flickering by,
Pretending to be stars.
Thus creating the hum we call night.

To the water,
The still glassy sheet of enormous size,
Float down like a feather to shatter its surface.
Brace myself for shards of fright.

Brave swans lie still on the lake,
The peace is disturbed,
Yet still they take no flight.

A dead weight floats along,
Refusing to sink.
The fish, the frogs, the tadpoles and swans,
They hold me up from the depths,
A bath of moonlight is all I’m allowed.