clear rainbow dance

from the fountain’s mouth

gravity’s parabola

arching snake

meets grateful lips

cracked and dry

on a steam-driven day

water slides down

sanded throat

and slakes the thirst –

what a great word, “slake” –

sleek as a water snake

or a summer lake, slipping

over red-caked earth

blue and still as slate

smooth enough, it seems

to skate, or ski

to the other side

where another fountain waits

to slake

the next pair of parted lips –

that slurp, that take

that sly old lake

08/04/2003

Posted on 08/05/2003
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt