Oasis

A small girl in a green dress
is eating an ice cream cone
while her mother watches
the water splashing in the fountain.

The wind blows through the city
spraying the water sideways
ruffling the little green dress
with its white polka dots
while the birds ruffle their feathers
in quick careful gestures
and follow the ice cream cone crumbs.

I am watching the way the water
clings in tiny reflecting spheres
on the iridescent dark blue
of a blackbird's glossy feathers
and my parched soul feels
a moment's relief from thirst
my eyes drinking in the color
of this oasis where the winds murmur
and the sunlight falls slanting
through the peaceful leaves.

Tomorrow I'll find myself
just as unexpectedly in the concrete desert
where the unrelenting heat is mirrored back
by the dark streets and the wind scorches.
The blackbirds will be calling harshly
as they search for carrion road kill.

Only the memory of water will remain.

And the girl in the bright green dress
with the pink flower in her pale hair
will be sitting by the bonedry fountain alone
and not even a trail of crumbs
will remain to show her the way back.

Where does the water spring from?
if I could, I'd take that living fountain
into my bones, my veins, my heart
and every word I spoke would be
a tiny sphere reflecting the light
as it fell
and my eyes would weep fresh
not salt tears
and every step I took would leave
the earth moist and clean.
I would throw out my hands to the wind
and it would carry me up dissolving
rarifying
condensing
until I floated light and insubstantial
to cover the earth in my embrace
and fall in torrents of pure water.