A walk to a pond,
a perfect place to ponder.
I think thoughts,
Blue tears are gone,
But I like it, no need to launder.
In the rain, it falls to my quilts.
I cry and shout,
clouds trap my noise,
does my body wilt when the rain suffocates my voice?
Surely not,
Back to the pond.
Use the dowsing rod
a guide, a responder,
treat such as a wand,
the guide to awe, the perfect place to wander.