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Namaste
If this tumbling stream be nameless,
I might as well hazard a descriptive guess.
Ripple River might do,
there are none here
to deny my footloose thoughts.
Submerged river rocks guide
a sun guzzling water
through a wooded way.
I'm not good at identifying tree's,
how they shape themselves
means more to me.
How old can a little creek be?
How to measure the ever changing?
If I return to this place by dawn or evening light
the name of this stream might alter yet again,
the way the light swims
renames our memories of it.
I prefer pictorial names
for all those innate features of a place,
the pleasure of naming prospects and vistas
gets to be a sacramental act,
a way of saying:
"Hey, I see you."
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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