ManicDDaily

At Water’s Edge

My name is green, I
edge the scene,
each leaf and stalk–I
am the talk
of vines and tips,
loose lips sink
ships, but me, I grip
their hulls with slip–
(the plankton of my disposition
also including decomposition.)
That said, my stock in trade
is spade, uproot of stone–I will
be grown–though I bend too, oh yes, I do,
like a river paying tributary
or a sigh upon a moonlit prairie
(for I’m still green
in site unseen–
when darkness reigns,
or it fails to rain–)
So irrepressible am I
that even when river swallows sky
and blue shines out in sparkling twinkle,
you’ll find my shade in every crinkle
of wave and tide,
the river wide,
the river’s narrows too.

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The above is a poem and iPad painting based on Tess Kincaid’s prompt for The Mag 116,  a beautiful photograph of the River Irwell by R.A.D. Stainforth, who besides being a photographer has an incredibly great voice and reads Tess’s poems on her blog, Willow Manor.

Speaking of rivers – check out my children’s counting book 1 Mississippi -for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms.  Or, if you in the mood for something older, check out Going on Somewhere, poetry, and Nose Dive, escapist fluff.