The Self-playing Instrument of Water

The Self-playing Instrument of Water

The Self-playing Instrument of Water

It is the story of the falling rain
To turn into a leaf and fall again
 
It is the secret of a summer shower
To steal the light and hide it in a flower
 
And every flower a tiny tributary
That from the ground flows green and momentary
 
Is one of water’s wishes and this tale
Hangs in a seed head smaller than my thumbnail
 
If only I a passerby could pass
As clear as water through a plume of grass
 
To find the sunlight hidden at the tip
Turning to seed a kind of lifting raindrip
 
Then I might know like water how to balance
The weight of hope against the light of patience
 
Water which is so raw so earthy-strong
And lurks in cast iron tanks and leaks along
 
Drawn under gravity towards my tongue
To cool and fill the pipe-work of this song
 
Which is the story of the falling rain
That rises to the light and falls again