poem

The Gravity of WaterWe ought to name our glaciersThe way we do our riversAnd white water rapids.Rain and snow are also kinds of river —Which is fresh water in its most natural state,Feeling the slant and flowing downhill,Falling until finding a level plain.But even here it isn ’t done,Dissolving the very earthThat would cradle its final fall.All rivers are handmaidens to gravity,Invisible Circe whisperingRunes from eager seashores.Man himself is 70% waterAnd we too are always trending downhill.I can ’t help it if I’m just Water flowing through you,Following the laws of natureFinding the cracksSeeking a level place to pool,For just a little while,Before yet another ground gives way.I ’d like to be the clear mountain spring Somewhere deep in your catacombs,A secret holy place of respiteFor when your lips and tongue are dry.I ’ll have a soft verdant bank for you to kneel.Come as much as you like.Cup your hands together and sip,Whenever it seems all the water ’s run out of you.2/9/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - February 9, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs