glass of water

glass of water

080422

10 mins

still life art, how it sits in the stillness of a room, reflecting the vibrations. no ripples or shakes, this water’s surface is clear and transparent, taking the shape glass as its own. this water has the mask of its origins, a scent faint and tap water chemical subtly disturbing my nose. i remember the well water in a childhood home, how fresh and glad i was to take it into my mouth, the stark difference in temperature from the deep august heat that had engulfed us on that day in the farmhouse in upstate new york. the birds have symphonies while the cicadas drone on like monks. bees purr their buzz and butterflies frolick from indigo to butter to deep orange and gentle whites dotting the green yellow fields of long haired grasses. i couldn’t stop drinking the sweet well water, which was ringing in my mouth, throat and belly with such enthusiasm. good water, fresh from the ground water nowadays is mostly lost to us city dwellers, who have to order big tubs of it to be delivered to our houses to drink. we are willing to add lemon, lime, cucumber or fresh mint to liven up and mask the fact that it is not that sweet well water. oh that water tastes like trickling creeks with rocks and moss and darting crazy crawling crayfish, slick salamanders and occasional awoken frogs. dry beijing is now a sweltering lung, the water is seeping out of us in sheets, and the glass of water is needed to cleanse our auras and then cleanse again. every minute is a waterfall. the still glass of water quickly evaporates in the desert, so unnoticeable, like a plant waving. wet my mouth, the stick tack in my mouth is washed away with every sip, whetting my soul, whetting my heart to be moist and natural again.