Questioning the Water

I filled a glass at the sink,
set it down on the counter
& watched it grow still.
What am I doing here?
I asked the water.
Which way should I go?
What color is sleep?
The water rose from the glass
as well as any genie
though it took its own
sweet time.

21 Replies to “Questioning the Water”

  1. Delightful, Dave. I love the last four lines.

    I have a water poem on the way that occupies similar territory. I mention this solely to avoid future litigation.

  2. Potable water is sometimes described as “sweet”–I’ve always found this interesting because, on another level of myth, we think of water as neutral.

    So, which is it? Sweet? Neut? Words for the same thing, depending on our mood?

    1. Your question stirs a faint memory. I think I must’ve blogged about that sometime back in 2004, when all my pent-up opinions were spilling out. I probably said something like, “the sweetest water is that with the least taste.”

    1. Thanks. You might be amused to know that I actually dreamed that line, and wrote it down when I woke up. (I had been wondering what one might ask a glass of water the night before.)

      1. You know, I just saw it from another angle: the color of sleep, being more understated and down-to-earth than the color of dreams, really signals (as the white-to-clear tap water does earlier) the later tension between the genie and evaporation.

        I was looking at it from just the color-leading-to-clear angle earlier.

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