Bubbles…
Clear water
oozing
through grass
collects
its thoughts
in a shallow,
spreading pool;
covers its sly tracks
with moss and reeds;
finds loopholes in a wall,
lies doggo in a muddy ditch;
cuts a narrow suspicious groove
through green and gullible fields;
gathers its wits, trickles deviously
across an unguarded country road;
joins forces with other watery fugitives
to white-water its way to the welcoming sea.
From where,
each and every
runaway drop
is destined to fall,
once again,
as rain.
March 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem