TAP WATER DEAD!! Godfrey read, bewildered and somewhat horrified. It sits in tanks and nasty old pipes, by the time you bathe in it it has died, claimed the advert selling a new shower stall. It set Godfrey thinking how lovely it felt bathing under a cold waterfall.
Buffed clean by the wind and the energy, of water pouring over warm stone. Peeling down to ones bloomer shorts, even less if sure you are alone. “I see through to rainbow’s other side”, he once wrote me. “Water is ever the vagabond” Godfrey was oft heard to say. No matter where poured, or flowing, or thawed, falling, trickling, dripping down my kilt, welled in or dammed it will find it’s own way.
Oh water has tried to pummel me. The surf moiled and tumbled and tossed, then drilled my round head in the sand. The riptide rudely took my shorts out to sea, as I paddled back to dry land.
Once so very thirsty, I drank from a tank, slurped water green, where sheep’s whiskery chins had been. Unlike lamb and ewe, next day how I did spew. A dreadful state I was in- quite ill.
TAP WATER DEAD!!. But the quicksand stream was alive. It was clean, crystal clear, laughing as it grabbed me , and the wide river Rawene, embraced me with her mist, on a summers dawn sailing down her by scow.
To sail on water that has been here forever is indeed a privilege and gift. So many times I have gotten wet, soaked, sodden, drenched as a self respecting vagabond can get. Shivering and cold, things wrinkled as if old, feel I will never get dry and then…a hot fire,tea, pack of biscuits after dinner, head out the next morning and get all wet again.
To those who have hauled their own water..To you who have wrung it by hand from your clean smalls. For all who thirst for adventure on the rim of the whirled, seek out that rainbow other side of the falls. it will teach you to be still and sit. It will share higher wisdom if you learn it’s ways and respect it.
Ocean, tarn, rapids or pond, it carries me along, the eternal vagabond, from Godfrey.