dries up and
the last drop of salt water
evaporates at the bottom of the
Great Pacific, and toilets won’t flush,
and dishes can’t be washed or broccoli watered
in backyard beds, and babies can’t have their mortal
sins baptized away, and the last bottle of microbrew from
the stash in the garage has been quaffed but it’s impossible
to piss or shed even a single tear, let us celebrate the lushness
of sublime liquidity in this city of perpetual precipitation. Let us
sip slowly from the birdbath of life, lick dulcet dew off the tops of
tulips like butterflies on foggy mornings, immerse ourselves in
an immense stream of kitchen sink consciousness, creative
tooth brushing conservation and waterfalls of wetland
wisdom. Let us drink to non-depleting shower
solutions, catch rain before it trickles away,
swim in the sweet sea of sensibility and
never gulp from the mellifluous
well that quenches.
Day 18 of NaPoWriMo and my normally hydrous muse woke up thirsty.
Photo from Mother Earth News.
Excellent. Up at 3am writing, reading, and having a glass of water. . .
Enjoy each sip! Hey, I was awake, too! XO
Very good—powerful and sweet—and moving.
Thanks, jd, writing a poem hydrates my parched soul.
This, is visually and verbally… exquisite.
Wow, I really appreciate that, Dawn. I don’t often do concrete poems, but this one seemed to drip itself into existence.
I’t just magic to look at… and reading it is icing. 😉