The Wellwell

There’s a fig tree in a vineyard that’s not bearing fruit. There’s a gardner who is willing to tend to the tree, and a vineyard owner who’s willing to give both another year.

I don’t fit into the world around me sometimes, and I, too, am empty sometimes. But my roots, too, are watered by the Wellwell and watched over by the Infinitygiver.

So

it’s time

to take off my galashoes from the date

and stop balancing on the broken glass of the lipsticked champagne flutes.

It’s time to

dip my bare feet into the Lifewater

and dance in the Wellwell over yonder,

the Wellwell

that nourishes my body until I’m filled

and can only give

and grow

and dance.