Scott McLachlan

Eye Bath

Tapped and capped and bottled, conveniently carried in a glass
What once had sprung so freely, now tamed within our grasp
Droplets that fell so silently, to the crashing of the storm
Ice that ruled the polar caps yet melts as climate warms
 
From stagnant ponds to coffee cups, the foulest to the pure
And showers and baths and basins, before the journey to the sewer
Such roaring power to stillness, ripples, waves and swells
Or mirror-like reflections, one disturbance soon dispels
 
The rains on plains in Spanish lands, the glacial fjords
The tumbling sight of river falls too beautiful for words
To pour, to soak, to irrigate – stop moisture being lost
The dew, so soft on blades of grass – the brittleness of frost
 
Boiling clouds or vapour, cools to hailstone, ice or snow
Contrast that is palpable, fleeting colours of the bow
One medium, one substance – one necessity for all
Speaks in many languages and breaks down many walls
 
We all have our perspectives that filter what we see
Yet truth remains unaltered and speaks to you and me
We must be careful to preserve, not squander this resource
And share it with our neighbours, openly – of course
 
Such depth, such power, such beauty – O let us not be blind
To this gentle over-flow of grace and renewing of our minds