Photo of the Week: "Well Water"

Poem of the Week:  "Water" by Gwen McEwen

When you think of it, water is everything. Or rather,

Water ventures into everything and becomes everything.

It has

All tastes and moods imaginable; water is history

And the end of the world is water also.

I have tasted water

From London to Miranshah.  In France it tasted

Of Crusaders' breastplates, swords, and tunnels of rings

On ladies' fingers.

In the springs of Lebanon water had

No colour, and was therefore all colours,

Outside of Damascus

It disguised itself as snow and let itself be chopped

And spooned onto the stunned red grapes of summer.

For years I have defended water, even though I am told

There are other drinks.

Water will never lie to you, even when it insinuates itself

Into someone else's territory.  Water has style.

Water has no conscience and no shame; water

Thrives on water, is self-quenching.

It often tastes of brine and ammonia, and always

Knows its way back home.

When you want to travel very far, do as the Bedouin do...

Drink to overflowing when you can,

And then

Go sparingly between wells.