It's never winter here.
The air is alwayshumid,
and the water always clear and sweet,
like the spirit of a newbornchild.
From a deep stone hollow filled with water,
I see the wooden bucketcome barreling up.
This water is crystalline, and so cool
that it refreshesmy parched throat
with only a tiny sip.
The heat of the sundisappears
as I rinse my face with fresh water.
As I drink, I smelljasmine nearby,
fragrant red and yellow roses,
and the strange orangeflowers.
And I can see trees looming over the yard,
so tall that they hidethe sky,
yielding their passion fruit.
I wonder where this water comesfrom,
and where else it goes,
this water that tastes better thansugar.
The same water that I drink
gives these plants life,
giveseverything life.
I pour the translucent liquid into my hands,
and ittakes the shape of a lens through which I can see
its own crystal drops
Costa Rica by Priya I., Overland Park, KS
Culture Shock by Helen C., New City, NY
Well near my house, Kerala, India by Giya A., New City, NY
