The aquifer

For years the lake hides underground where a river grew tired and lost. The waters gather together and no leaves fall, no fish die from acid rain. They wait for someone to drill his well. The pump cranks a long tongue, like a fantastic moth tasting the sweet cold, and brings it up sparkling like blue fire, like green gold.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...