This is the creek bed
Full of stones and dry
Sinews of the flow that led
Once lush without a sigh
To a warm and bubbling dome
Caressed with swirls of watery grace
Like a sky arch to this home
A palm of loving interface.
The creek bed that once was a stream
Now shrunken to a memory wisp
Can guide our heartbeat steps in dream
Toward gurgled sounds of swish and lisp.
From heart to heart the river flows
In cushioned worlds hung from above
The rhythm speech that always knows
Its warm and aqueous source of love.
It waters roots of leaves gone dry
And flows in silence under stone
A smile beneath an angry sky
A path for all who are alone.
oil painting by Jane Bendix