by Elijah Liu (Singapore)
Audio: "Crooked Creeks" read by Ajay Nair
Water waits and wastes away in wilted states. It waxes and wanes in winter weather and slips away in the spring fever. Then cascading down like curtains of concrete, it comes with torrentuous might. Like the songbirds, I settle for a quiet creek. One that crackles in cautionary places and curves with crooked faces. Gently gushing in the glistening greenwood. I settle for the broken brook. Trickling tears of old trees so softly subdued in a season so sweet. A tiny torrent terraforming over time. Slow to sway yet powerful enough to prove its might. The succulent shimmer of sweet summer water rushing down and calling out to the extensions of the universe. So self-contained and self-preserved that its savoury sap suffices. The brook barks to the beasts of oblivion. Breaking the barriers brutally binding the spheres of the natural realm. Quiet it is on a starry night. Sure to elongate the rest of the napping sky. I settle for crooked creeks. For they run so beautifully in a crooked niche.