Clearing the Spring

Clearing the Spring

Sometimes one has to clear the spring
Lacquered with black leaves
Like shingles over the deep house of water
Or scales on a sleeping dragon’s skin
Has to get down on hands and knees
And brush autumn out of the spring’s eye
And clear its throat of what chokes it
One ought to be able to see to the sand
Where the water dances in spiraling jets
Out of joy at having risen through rock
Via fissures thin as cocktail straws
One should be able to step in
And feel one’s skin pinched between cold and bone
And the thin ring around the ankles where water meets air
So if you ever see a spring 
Covered in the dark camouflage of rotted leaves
Clear it like you would clear
The grave of someone dear to you