A quiet well rising
Brings up a ponderous sound
From the depths.
It is the sound of troubled, dirty water,
Trembling as hydraulic shocks
Fracture the earth all around.
We shrug it off, complain
About the smell,
And take a sip.
Now, it’s just water
In our system,
And we will purge and absorb it
Without attentiveness.
The well still stands there,
Trying to remind us of something,
But there are many more cups to drink
And not enough time to learn about each one.
A shame.

Inspired by William Stafford


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