Sprinklers Underground
Our
sprinklers
sing water
in simple plainchant.
No Las Vegas Bellagio here.
No ballet like Lipizzaner stallions prancing, leaping, circling
in graceful arcs and intricate patterns as they lavish nourishment onto our lawn.
Rather stolid workhorses that know where they're going,
humble streams sinking into earth
we simply borrow,
watch over,
never
own.
