Monday, February 12, 2018

IN BETWEEN THE RAINDROPS

Buckets of water sit beside an old iron pitcher pump.
They are emptied into a reservoir until
a gush of cold, ground water flows
with each downward push on a rusted pump handle.

Water splashes across the sun-struck, concrete, well cover;
basins, buckets, and animal troughs are refilled;
bird calls spread throughout the air,
as if sugar-pop nectars bloomed in swarms,

But sun-drenched afternoons give way to dark clouds
that move quickly and stream their own water falls
along the edge of a roof’s overhang.

Out there, in between the rain drops,
there is dry air, cooled and set in motion
as heat rises above the tree canopies,
as water drips onto grass blades, leaves, and petals,
as some burrow in tree hollows
and others crouch under wooden eaves, 
there is a deep breath.

Heavy winds clamor in the fields and woods,
carry undisguised truths hidden in their pockets--
until the chilling water's flow
bursts through the air, floods the earth, and
spills into underground streams that fill the well
and quench a day’s thirst for knowledge.


© cmheuer, 2/2018 

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