Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Tuesday Poem: On A Random Afternoon

                                                                              Andrew Wyeth
Like The Empty Bucket

We dream of water.
Like the cup set down to dry,
we yearn to be filled.

Long to listen as 
the spigot plays
its musical notes on
the cistern’s surface,
a song that gurgles
and tickles, sure as
the coursing of blood
in our arteries, soon as
we stop listening
to everything else. 

Water linking everything
together: springs and 
creeks, streams and 
rivers, all current-driven 
bodies pushing out 
to the ocean, that briny 
embracing magnitude 
we ache to sit beside, 
wade into, float 
upon, fathom.


Ben Hur said...

This is a beautiful poem, Eileen, full of wonderful images.

Helen McKinlay said...

You have captured the essence of the importance of water to our spiritual selves. Lovely

Michelle Elvy said...

How can I not love a poem about water. Simple and honest and so full.