A Poem a Day (623): Drift

 
Drift
 
We drift,
as wood, motionless,
emotion full, tidal strength.
 
A meander of means,
an escape into the body
peeled off, layer by layer.
 
Here is ebb,
here is flow.
 
Water, without will,
where there is light,
silver magic weave.
 
And we are spun,
enravelled, unravelled,
one motion.
 
Adrift.

 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, February 26, 2024