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.
Categories:
dosser, farm, water,
Form: Free verse
It was nine degrees out all was frozen
Not much better inside for commode water
Icy crystals formed not what we'd chosen
Shaking at fireplace's front, stood our daughter
On top of the hearth wasn't any better
One thing we didn't need was a fly swatter
Outside with slick cardboard and snow saucer
The children did laugh and gingerly play
With warm cocoa sipped, slept like a dosser
Snuggled upon dry straw and cow's loose hay
They could have slept through loudest donkey's bray
That experience made for a good day
Winter wonderlands don't happen much here
Usually cold, wet, and windy each year
Sometimes with ice spewed then bugs disappear
So that winter wonderland brought us cheer
Lots of wet clothes and needed headgear
Once we relaxed and to rules didn't adhere
Each family needs one winter wonderland
With cocoa and popcorn in dixieland
Written: December 27, 2018
For Contest: Winter Wonderland Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Categories:
dosser, winter,
Form: Sonnet