A trickle of footprints moves towards a river
Footprints are so directional when you look at them , follow me,
Ancient hand and footprints enthrall me; spray painted, fossilised in rock or held in clay from some moment far back in time , we are linked.
Foot prints as unique as hand prints , I know you, who you travel with, where you come from and where you head to.
A river knows its way, always downwards following the path of least resistance, sometimes carving its way through rock , it can grind solid rock to clay flowing through the land joining forces into great rivers, lakes and seas.
Evaporating expansive in the sun and heat the water lifts up rising light into the sky.
Seeding clouds, it moves with the wind across the world gathering weight and from these pregnant clouds drops down again.
I heard from Tristram Gooley who wrote ' The Natural Navigator' that you can never actually see water all we see is reflections and movement and i think this is true.
Water has tasted the world , water is mirror.