Pronunciations

The stone shoulders of the waterfall are covered in graffiti, letters and symbols daubed onto small cliff faces Gang tags I guess; covert proclamations. Apparently Janice loves Bret also. Yet it is a pretty place, and the water falls as sound and light not too loud nor too bright a fall and flight that delights the air. The stream bubbles and swirls for a while then meanders away crossing a stretch of bottom land forgetful of any plunge or spill. I don’t really notice the graffiti anymore it has ingrained its presence into the scenery I watch only the falling water how it splashes upon itself creating its own watery language; how then when it wanders away seemingly well pleased with what it said. I can intuit the ubiquity of that aqua-patois, a fluid eloquence flowing over silence.