An Ode to Water

Expertly designing a pond
over and over and over, a
sculpted body of water to
please my spirit. The circles
made me dizzy so early in
the morning.  Suddenly 
nervous system jangled,
my curves split  apart. Short
circuited from a world  of         
uncontaminated creativity
I was shoved into “the now.”
My brain, synapses  then       
stalled, rendered the “artist”
inanimate to  the voice
on the telephone.      

Past the time for morning
coffee, my absorption
flown,  now the designated
designer stumbled outside
to do——something. Wilted
plants in the garden caught
my eye.  Watering, yes,
a job to prod my lagging 
inventiveness.  And so I
happily doused all the
thirsty vegetation in sight 
and  then — with a  
wonderful long clear spray,
 I also lavished  those that
adorned my balcony

along with

five books, three pamphlets
my breakfast room table,
“Roots of Consciousness,”
message on oneness, an
aboriginal tribe who found
water where no others could.
Origins, myths, mysteries

and  “How to Build a Pond.”

Copyright ©  1996,2006 Cara