Still Waters

  
Waters are cold and clammy,
                          Sometimes
Still waters even more so,
Rivers run deep
and slow in places,
Hiding their secrets,
carrying untold tales.

Yet
when they run fast
and clear,
Open and tinkling,
rushing headlong,
All before
is washed clean,

Taken anew
bled clean
the rest is
just so much flotsam
and jetsam.

Be that manner
of river that suits
Me best
Birds wheeling in
the air above,
eyes straining to
view the depths below.

sometimes
a river of
life and
sometimes
those waters run
bloody.

I sup from it ,
                          sitting at the edge,
then
sometimes,
I float away.