Rivulets running like ancient roots along the veins of my dabbling feet. Not seeking to dig down but only to flow onwards. Unconcerned by anything but living the dance, how it takes you in the current that moment: sparkling in the sun; washing over a minnow; swirling slow in a shadowed eddy. Never set in stone but eroding it, channelling your way playfully into the rocks of ages, pirouetting on a pebble, jeteeing from a salmon’s mouth, on pointe gazing up to the noonday sun.
© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015