TASTE OF WATER

TASTE OF WATER

Water...tastes me also - 

as I am pulled on green mossy notes of lullaby misted
as alabaster cascades upon smooth dotted gray mountain rock
moving liquidly between; incompressible, pooling for sips, so briefly
before its coolness evaporates in the heat of my mouth.

Calls farther...wiff me away -

to blackberry nimbus firmament which she makes.  Where chills blow at 55 miles per;
coaxing standing redwoods "bend," with the slightest breath; straighting me 
above her surface caps like a shoot reaching for morning's dew
awakened, favored.

Winter breakwaters...heat our play -

where touches geothermic meet smooth as driftwood legs rising about vines of steam 
while beads seemingly timid, connect, build, and sprint over her maple brushed toes
diving from flowered crests braided on ankles, in drops...returning home.
Not always; a pause ensues when tracings tide near shorelines of Douglas Firs. 

Answers dive...without inveigh  -

to shelves of coral below all surface chop; where calm positions, where calm holds. 
Where movement between blues above, and black under, we love;  where circling
tips rubbing open me more and more; in kick together, twirling round each to surface
bubbled in smirk, releasing questions from depths aquatic, as answers to dive again.

Water.