|Journal » Trout 17 »|
Sarah Jane Barnett
Under water the pockmarked face of a boulder will soften
into international measures. Cobbles the size of a human child
will melt, in time, into pebbles the profile of a sparrow's egg.
We walk the long estuary where the semi-enclosed body of water
mingles in layers of lucid gold and milk. Your face is costal
as your slate eyes map the hills and fallows of the track
before your feet. Our conversation slips like lumbering cattle,
the ground we cover immeasurably diluted by the last
week of storms. You are three hundred days of rain. When we reach
a fairway I tell you, without metaphor, how the saltwater mingles
with the lighter freshwater into a zone where water erodes
water. In the sun the tidal action of swell and deflation unsettles
the bed of the inlet. That is to say, I speak only of the sea.
|© Copyright 2012 Sarah Jane Barnett & Trout.|