Beyond the Realm



Up on the hill, beyond the serene lake ...

The water catches - in a distant ache

Pooling in the earth, and making ditches

Running down towards it, in straight pitches



Arriving at points all along the lakeshore ...

Creating rivulets, and brooks, from which to pour

Pushing away the sands to the left and the right

Making horseshoe-shaped gouges - a constant blight



But, filling the lakes and reservoirs with the essence

And refueling the wells with many liquid blessings

For, tomorrow ... showers will run with tap turn ...

There'll be no waiting, as the pumps just won't burn 



- Tristram



© Christopher W. Thomas

10:25pm Tues. Jan. 4th, 2000