It is proverbial as well as fact
that water can cut through rock,
and if I had its fluid power now
I’d carve out a valley from your stone;
this water would fight fire too
should you ever decide to burn.
But after all of these years I have never
flowed; and being more the river bed
you will have desired a rain-dance
not demanding but full of hope.
There is never enough, or too much in
the wrong places, and whether divining
or waiting for nature to take its turn
this drought will be your drowning.