Water, water everywhere – not always where it should be

It’s raining this morning-
seven wild mallard join the chooks at feeding
the pond is filling
the grass refreshed-
and I’m running out of water.
The borehole pump is waiting to be seen to
so I fill the tanks from the farm tap
tankering the water with a bowser pulled behind the quad.
The farm well only fills one tank at a time before drying up
I carted a load last night but
to cope with this morning’s
showers,washing, toilet flushes
I dispense with my Sunday lie-in
rising earlier than usual
exiting into the rain
clad only in my boiler suit-
I’d use my dressing gown if it was waterproof.
The hose shoogles loose on the road
gushing water to waste in the puddles.
I jump franticly from the machine as it rolls back
to recover the trailing pipe
as if the spilled liquid
was something precious.


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