Continually changing
The fountain's waters are,
Yet not chaotic.
A seeming pattern exists
To its non-order.
Consistent in its flux,
Sparkling droplets of clarity
Emerge from the obscurity
Of the restless column.
Its cold waters know not
Their destinations.
A fresh breeze may arise,
Sweeping over the rolling fields
Until the bubbling fount it encounters.
The behold the spray!
A lovely cloud,
As the myriad drops
Find a new course
Away from their source,
Perchance to land
On a green blade of grass,
Mayhap upon a dry cobblestone,
Now kissed by the mist.
Or do some simply disappear,
Lost to the breeze
As they dry in the sky?
And still the pleasant cascade continues,
Like a waterfall in reverse,
Its origins unknown.
A gentle rushing,
Splashing sound
Pleases the ear
Even as the selfsame sight
Does please the eye.
'Tis one of those things
That need not be seen
To know it is there.
I once did bring
One now unseen
This fountain's sight to share.
sjk