Splitrock Trickle
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My Poetry

Summer Quench

2/21/2020

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I thought I heard a tree talking to me
One hot August afternoon
As the hot summer wind
whistled through it's drying leaves,
stiffening sticks,
brittle branches
And parched bark


She called to me to give her water
For her thirst was becoming unbearable
She has taken up all the moisture of her earth
and the brown grass around her
was a testement
to that undeniable
conclusion

So I unwound the green hose from the
Back of the house and stretched it across the lawn
To the towering giant that needed my help
Then went back and turn on the spigot
Water sputtered out
As the air
pockets expelled

​Then a clear cold deposit
Began to darken the world around that tree
As I worked the stream all around
I took a drink myself to test the perfect water
As my body
took it in
The tree and I sighed.
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