The Spring Poem by Barry Middleton

I traveled farther in than out
to find the spring I speak about;
and still I wonder if it flows
as first I watched it when it rose.

But why I dug for a day, then two,
with all the world quite out of view
was just to delve a mystery;
the spring I knew was just a key.

I was a city boy at play
held out from all the yesterday
of knowledge that might help my toil
to capture sustenance from soil.

The strangest ferns and aspen trees
yet whispered with an ancient breeze
and dampened earth would add a clue
and prints of animals who knew
the answer to my hope was near,
that there was water hidden here.

And so without machine or witch
I marked my spot and laid a ditch
like some new Moses of the sod
with faith in where I struck my rod.

And there I dug, nor did I doubt,
that I would find the water out.

And when the spring began to flow
with clearest water cold as snow,
I cried aloud that all might see
my labor's new found destiny
in water brimming up to show
to anyone who did not know -
just listen to the Earth's reply
when thirst is great and lips are dry.