Water Babes (rev)

We were water babes born in the arms of
a brook that patiently took us to heart.
From the start we blithely played amid
pastel-shade ranks of serried wildflowers
arrayed on somnambulant banks.

When one of us drowned in a mad escapade
the brook buoyed her up, a swirling embrace
enchanted her smile, placed coronet of gold
on her tousled head, rephrased her name
as beatified daughter.

We gave gracious thanks to the water, we
knew who had saved her. She wears the crown
still, faded to russet in autumn decline – tho’
her spirit is pure as the water divine which
filled her with life, returned her for love.

We flowed into a fractious world and learned
a dour pain of soured associations, torment
and misery; lessons deeped in humble origins.
Peaceful banks were breached and flagrant
paths scoured with awesome power.

But might belies the calm that flowers in gentle
times and gentle times were all we knew.
There, beside our brook a conscience shaped
our thoughts of peace and gave to us romantic
views she tethered with a temperant lease.
© 18 September 2003, I.D. Carswell