From a mile away, it might be mud. Move closer, it becomes a mirror. The basin almost empty, its ‘lake’ more of a mere. From there, my face looks back at me. In the same way, I remember myself marking you; and your merging with the air at the moment I emerged from the meadow.
Beyond my head, the murmuration of cumuli meanders in misty sympathy with my own motion. I am here for a reason. I shake the stick, and at the same time, circles grow from pinpricks in the water. At the same time,
I feel them, coolly blessing my cranium. At the same time, something makes a movement in the murk; animating the mire.
Under air, water. Under water, earth. Under earth,
I am writing a poem for each of the 26 letters of the English alphabet for #NaPoWriMo2018. The poems are a sequence and you can read the first dozen as follows:
The letter 'M' is derived from an ancient Egyptian hieroglyph denoting water.