Water Ghazels

Piping all our water where we want, we could make new rivers

if it were not that whereever a river could flow one already does

The surface current keeps sweeping flowers along, whirling

as if some choreographer decides what each petal should do.

Whatever's lovely, we soon let go, even our own lives slipping from recall--

we remember who we loved, how it was, but forget we still do.

Pure egrets dip where the river flooded a field during spring rains.

A farmer should know the river has its own ideas what needs doing.

Guzzling from the jug, I pass it on to a fellow worker's thirst.

dry my lips on my sweaty arm; sleeveless, shirtless, we make do.

John Calvin Rezmerski