The rock
pool
In the
rock pool
we listen
to the sound of being,
exchanging
our breath, our thoughts,
protected
in our invisible bubble,
this
living womb of water
with its feather-touch
energy of knowing.
Our skin reddens
under a yearning amber sun,
potential
of a missed dawn.
In their distancing,
the heavy Nimbus warn us
of the darker
energy of rain, the conjurer,
its sprightly
fingers waiting to
dance upon
our rock pool.
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