Cistern on the mountain, you reach so deep -
past the clay and rubble to the fountain I seek.
Your depths go further than my eyes could ever see.
The digging to your source makes the mountain top green.
This place that you come from is seated in the world below,
with the hurry and bustle of the daily show.
Without the well to reach it, the high place would not be.
This thin place would be lost like the vapor of last night's dream.
Cistern on the mountain, help me to see you everyday,
in the streams and creeks that feed you -
as you have fed me in this place.
T.L. Eastman July 2011