Dear July, two: a poem.

Friday, 3 July 2015


A Glass of Water
May Sarton

Here is a glass of water from my well.
It tastes of rock and root and earth and rain;
It is the best I have, my only spell,
And it is cold, and better than champagne.
Perhaps someone will pass this house one day
To drink, and be restored, and go his way,
Someone in dark confusion as I was
When I drank down cold water in a glass,
Drank a transparent health to keep me sane,
After the bitter mood had gone again.


After reading this poem this afternoon, I took out a glass from the kitchen cupboard, got some ice from the freezer, sliced a green fresh circle from a lime and - the ice clinking - poured myself a glass of water. And it was good. Water is simple. But it sustains. It allows you to 'be restored and go on [your] way' (unlike the fizzy-headedness of champagne). Water gives life.

Picture by Tahel Maor.

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