The Spring

When your well is dry

no use in cursing the water

Put a pebble in you mouth instead

And go search for a spring

Make space for a pool 


Then make the daily trek

through brambles & the brush

over rocks & the high-humped stump

to a place for you to drink long

without asking permission


Bring to the wise spring

your hardest conundrum

Her brow will ripple thoughtfully

The answer to your question

flow back sacred mystery


Simply be entirely still

The spring whispers grace

flowing from the heart of God

A gift without any scent of

judgment or coercion


Upon the aching place

within your body or your mind

lay a gentle hand laved with water

Feel the worn weariness flow

away in relief unprescribable


The well smells of dust

from the distant forgotten past

The spring brings forth flowers

trillium & wild lilac & mint

the musk of  mushroom


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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4 Responses to The Spring

  1. SalvaVenia says:

    Drink from the fountain of truth.


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