Dowsing
The forest for the trees, he said as the cows lowed.
The sun dropped behind the mountain in blue-orange fire.
The sun dropped behind the mountain in blue-orange fire.
he said, and plopped down on a chunk of granite.
Closed his eyes. I watched his eyelids tremble and still.
Best is wood, he said finally, hold a forked branch
with a hand on each side of the fork and relax your
palms. Soon you'll feel the water pull at you like
a real strong wind. After a few moments he said,
this wood's no good for witching water. He straightened
some wire hangers into elongated L shapes with a belt tool.
Now here you hold the small bit of the L in each hand.
Hold them in front of you till the bars cross. There's
your water. He closed his eyes. My father with us
closed his eyes. I kept mine open to see the wires
cross into an X. Mark the spot, he said. And went
to his knees slowly to thank the Lord. My dad
lit a cigarette and sighed. Uncle Marty handed me
the military shovel, olive-green with purpose.
Now dig, he said. There's your wellspring.
The ground soft and loamy. I dug and dug.
Eventually we drilled, and found nothing.
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