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,

Linda