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Thursday, September 10, 2015

Dowsing

Russell Lee, "Water witch walks in the direction that stick heads him.
Pie Town, New Mexico
," 1940, found via this article

I run a fingernail along that branching
witch-hazel, feeling for a thrum at every
Y. Yes, the answer comes, pick me, cut
here. My penknife slips as it bites in, and
I nick myself right at the moment I sever
branch from limb. A little blood wet on
the blade and the branch—a small give-
back to the brushy tree—and I’m almost
ready. I’ll be over there, over those hills,
walking the dry land, palms up and fingers
lightly wrapped around the Y as it calls
out down through rock, nods when the
water held in the branch is answered by
the water down below. No matter how
far off or deep, no matter how parched,
water will find water, the cut tree sings.

4 comments:

Dale said...

(o)

bev said...

Beautiful, Lori.

Shelly Lowenkopf said...

You nailed him.
Any thoughts about whatever happened to Pod, the Awful Photographer?

Lori Witzel said...

Thanks, Bev! And Shelly, I did Google Mr. Pod a few times but nothing Pod-like near his old stomping grounds. I think Ricki got work at an ad agency. That was sure fun, though, that hands across the waters thing.