They Say Water Seeks its Own Level

They Say Water Seeks its Own Level

(“But whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never thirst again; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.” John 4:14)

They say water seeks its own level.

The sun swung above us hugging the ragged horizon
as we ascended the narrow trail. It warmed our shoulders
like a shirt just ironed on an autumn day.

We were three as we trod the hardpan and wound our way
between stands of lodgepole pine. The sun followed us,
still kind as midmorning turned to noon.

We ate homemade trail mix, dried fruit and rinds,
enjoyed the pace, the breeze, the river below us
and the climb.

Our music was acoustic, our laughs the lyrics,
the birds our musicians, and our lungs worked full time
to sing and to climb.

What are friends? Travelling trios on an isolated footpath,
sharing the moment the sun takes its toll.

Parched, dry as aged wood fences,
our throats stung for refreshment as we tilted our canteens.

Warm, but clear, the water soothed us for a moment,
seconds of the hour; we were young, we were fine.

But once we stumbled; no, discovered. Once we happed upon
a rivulet meandering across our path and the spring above
which was its source, our tepid drink was forgotten

As we, each in turn, tilted our faces below the icy stream
that sprang from the rocks and wrapped our mouths, our
arms, our torsos, our minds completely around the unexpected offering.

We emptied our canteens there, puddling across the path,
and filled them from the slow trickle that broke through the granite.
We waited without time, the sun aligning with the river below
creating silver dancers where water and air barely kiss. We knew
what all hikers know;

The water is free, abundant, and pure. The spring would continue,
though snow filled the trails, and next year, or the year after that

We could return to find the pristine refreshment, the sacrament, the
grace.

They say water seeks its own level. Older now than young once was,
three hikers scattered across the continent and time
may think, in the same late moment of the day
of water that bore the mixture of earth and divine.