My glasses have been wiped clean:
A perfectly renewed sense of vision,
New lenses for viewing the potato-skin land,
Once dried, and cracked.
Caked into the impression of footprints.
What a sensational sight.
Where land-locked can be unlocked,
And the water flows in graciously.
It offers it’s cool arms,
Reaching through each crevice.
It takes in all that needs reassurance.
What a dream I must have been having,
To think that I have reached ultimate purity.
A replenished ground of waterways,
Threading its streams through the lands,
Interlocking like lovers joining hands.