Quenched by the Treasure of the Well

The water pipes are still dry
so you go for tequila
bring a bowl and band aids
to your friend’s house
where you’ll soak the screw wound
in your sole
and sip a cocktail at sunset

you finally are ready to bring those boots outside
you’ll pat your soaked foot dry
apply the ointment
adhere the bandage
slip on a sock
and zip up that foot
into the leather boots
that have been sitting
waiting
by your travel books

now these boots are climbing
stairs to the top of the Ficus
a treehouse in the clouds
you clink glasses with friends
in pinkening skies
eat beans and beets just picked from the garden
get swooped by a flock of 30 dainty birds
all one mind
in speedy flight
used to tree tops
but not to humans in them

so maybe your house has no water
but now you’re housed in a tree
with golden beets and silver linings
your friend says your situation is an opportunity
shares his new mantra
“Thank you for this gift, and the treasure that it holds for me.”

The gift was great at sunset
but you’ve forgotten the treasure by morning
you’re still dry
and grumpy
you don’t want to stretch
but you could wash your hands at the yoga studio
the same place where the AA group meets
where their 12 Step sign laughs at your dried water lines
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.”

you don’t want serenity prayers
or downward dog poses
but you’ll try
to accept
to embrace your Dark Side
to breathe like Darth Vader
and after an hour
ok
you do feel better

And through some alignment with the Force
when you return home
the pump is primed
water is flowing
and you are in love with liquid
singing praises
and committing
life-long devotion to the element of water

by nightfall it’s time for poetry

courtesy of wanathan101

last night you were in treetop branches
with sunset clouds
tonight you are flush with the grass

poets circle a fire in starlight
and you stretch
beneath the Gardenias
soles warmed by flames
smoke circling to sky
sparks catch air in quick bursts
punctuating poetry
that spills from the mouths of your neighbors
words and flickers
stars and flowers
the smell of smoke in your hair

upon this earthen body
you and the poets spiral through space
resting on the surface
just above the treasure
layers and deep veins
hold the seeping springs of liquid love
the elemental elixir

you are prostrate
a devotee
giving thanks at the well
quenched
by the flow
of words
and water

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

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