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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.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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