Old Water Poem by Graham Fowell

Carry me old water,
Bear me like the new,
Having trickled, pooled, and frozen
Between the lake and dew.

Carry me and woodlice,
With various of others,
To feel and breathe and splash about,
With the Cosmos and her mothers.

The juice that oils the biosphere,
In which to drown or slake,
Has sedimentary descendants,
Keeping chemistry awake.

Carry me old water,
Until the sun begins to thirst,
Then evaporate towards our fate;
As previously rehearsed.

Graham Fowell
2019