The unfettered sounds of rushing, dashing, crashing water
Has now passed.
The fresh and heady scent of clean, clear water
Has dwindled down to
To nothing. No more frothing white ice fairies
Or the orchestra of rushing water singing to us
Only the pebbles resting on the bottom, drying slowly in the sun.
The year has come full circle; March the water will be rushing back to fill the canals and our farms. For now, everything waits.
From my world to your heart,