by Danny James
If you chance reside near the ocean, a shimmering freshwater basin perhaps, or some sparkling sky-blue inlet stream brushed with the green-apple tips of Willow that whisper in the Springtime breeze, and stir with timid charm the clear and delicious waters passing underneath through which the pebble floor and all animation of life therein is visible, into the shade of an Arcadian dale. Bubbling liquid of the purest dreamable state drawn and descended of lofty snow-laced spires which address the very cloud-scape grounds call angels home. Well, have you then at your grace, wanderer, a fount of the finest available natural sustenance known, and necessary wealth, of which you too are mostly comprised, sufficient in one gratifying instant of submersion to dissolve your cares and quicken the spirits there back to ambrosial health and exquisite humour. The holy sinking sensation of being one and relation to Nature, suddenly home and alive again.