of nature in ourselves

from a small tin cup
that hung on a hook
in the pump house
back by the hill that overlooked my
grandparents home,
I would drink straight from the well
glaciers and icebergs, clean and sweet,
cup after cup until
it was running down my chin
even on the hottest day, the water
was cold.
my grandpa made it special-
he said it came right from the source,
straight up from an underground stream
that fed the lake below the house.
he witched the well himself back in
the late 60's when he settled here
with his family.
the land had been owned by his father-
three lakes, Otter, Amen, and Crane
sprawled out over the land with swamps
between each, filtering out anything that
might try to get by. And all of those
underground streams feeding the lakes
and pushing through the swamps and
connecting each lake to the next like the
network of a secret soul. the eagles that flew
the skies. the beaver that built dams that
flooded the shores. the Pike that lived down deep
where the sun could not go. the bear that lumbered by
and the deer that nibbled at the salt lick on top of the hill
right above the pump house where I drank the sweetest
water I have ever tasted. all a link in the chain of nature
where I grew up. and this connection in nature can be
related with the nature of ourselves-
all doing our own thing, helped up by the next one,
helping the one before and so on, looking for just a cup
of water to quench the soul and connect the pieces in
a greater picture called life.