Poem for her 920

Springs

 

Many came out of the mountains near us

Several on our land

Seeps that slow flowed into catchments

Runners with power to turn a wheel

Bottles filled

Take them to the city house

Chill them in the fridge

Trips with fresh sweet

Picnics with mineral waters 

Something we have everywhere we go

Even when we have a party

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.