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I enter the spring,
a well of color, a pool of brilliance.
I pause, suspended
in the flow, then, sink into the depths,
into that flash of light at the bottom
where the water whips up billowing sand clouds
as it emerges from subterranean passageways
of the aquifer. I silently descend past
striated membranes of color,
towering oppressive dark empires in the roots of
trees, whose constellations of trapped air bubbles
look like immense cities
seen from afar.
Among the morose indifference of clotted roots
a shifting cloud of needle-like glimmers of fish,
like a blinking eye or
silent spasm of revelation slowly winks down into
the voluminous depths. They mirage into
darkness where suddenly
the scattered light is gathered up and
shaken out
into a carpet of brilliance
on the spring bottom.
-- Margaret Ross Tolbert
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