Water Dance

The Springtime Cometh

The Springtime Cometh is the title of an E. Y. Harburg poem.

Look within. Within is the fountain of good,

and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt ever dig. - Marcus Aurelius

There comes a day when I have to break up with winter.

It’s usually somewhere around the middle of February when the snow days have lost their luster and the gray skies don’t look like they are ever going to cheer up and all the leafless trees look like they are auditioning for a part in an Alfred Hitchcock film.

By March, I'm fuming, Enough already.

That’s when I tell winter he has been a supercute date for the holidays and I really like mistletoe and carols and sleigh rides and he is totally hot in his all-white tux.

But now?

I’m over it.

There’s a new special someone in my life.

On this happy bright day, meet my spring. Let me tell you what he has brought along.

A water dance that can rinse away the troubles of the day.

From a bird bath and fountain right here on our deck. Don't you just love its antiqued verdigris finish? It's a Mother's Day gift from Second Daughter.

Like a penitent sinner in need of sanctification, I touch the splashing reservoir of water. It feels like silk. Smooth and warm bubbling past you. Full of life.

I sit close by on a splintery bench. The sun is bright, and it strikes everything evenly. The water flashes it back so blindingly that I close my eyes and just listen to the water tumbling onto the basin, droplets spilling on the floor. Its steady tinkle is soothing, the sound rhythmic, almost hypnotic.

And I begin to dream of water. And to think that the spirit is a fountain.

It pours out with an inexhaustible spray of ideas, but only as it continues to flow will more and clearer streams of water come.

(To be continued)