In observance of summer drought
the emerald trees look to me
as if I have a silver pail with an
endless bottom
             the source of answering thirst

Perhaps the silver pail
has been buried at the bottom
of the river
filled with weighted buttons
           life answers

We’re both thirsty
and have no answers

Only a question of how
a tree can birth a poem
and how a poet
never stops thirsting

Pull the buttons of
branches of
time well spent

never reach the bottom
             of words