The Water

- jan-u-wine


Shadow
touches
the sun-lit
face of the river.

Remembrance

plays
upon the closed doors
of my mind.

The Water.

It is green.

Green
like sunlight through leaves,

green like the dark grasses
hidden in Elven forests.

Green,
like the little Took's Spring-gold
eyes.

I should not be afraid of the Water,
should I?

It has not the dull'd grey visage of the Brandywine.

No.

It is kindly,

And not-so deep.

Almost,

it feels

wise,

as if ancient tales
were woven
beneath its antique glint.

I touch it with my hand.

It is warm with Summer.

I should not
be afraid of it……


should I?

I should not fear
what lies
beneath
its shimmered calm,

nor
where it might
travel
when it leaves this place.

I should not think
upon

all the dark
and fearsome things
it pulls beneath itself,

holds close within its cold sweep.

I should not fear that it held
them,
swallowed their breath,
the swift beats of their hearts,

their lives.

I should not……………

A hand,
heavy,

wrinkled with weary'd age,
falls upon my shoulder.

Fingers be-smirched with ink
up-tilt my head.

I should not
daydream
beside the Water,

Uncle says.

I should
come along to tea, now..

All the long way up the Hill,
the slick-honey of Her voice pulls at me,
whispers secrets in my ear…..
 
and the tules,
lying tangled upon the very face of her
hold out the green ribbons of their arms….

I do not fear the Water.