The Spell of the Blessed Water Diviner

They called him the dosser. A blessed man with a crooked, bent and wobbly wishbone of wire, held tight in clenched fist. He fossicks spellbound for water hiding deep below in the groundwater. His fingers compel the water sleeping fifty feet down to hear his call, and echo a reply forthwith, with a signal on the wire tap. On some hot dry afternoon, dumb with drought. If he lets you watch him, you'll see the wire tremble ever so slightly, and swing to one side. Often he'll backtrack, reset the grip, cover the same ground, to see if the quiver, and swing repeats. Then, 'X' marks the spot for the farmer to dig. The water diviner knows not why he has this insight to feel the presence of water beneath his feet. It was pure happenstance that he learned he had the gift when a true believer gave him a try. Perchance, you too may have the diviner's gift. To conger the wellsprings of water deep within. To reveal its secret whereabouts, with a wiggle of wire, held tight in a believer's fist.