Sculpture, when executed well, gives life to solid form.
As Rilke pointed to in Rodin's panther:
Caged, but no more so, in its tense, warm
bronze moment, than as a soul-crushed dancer
pacing the cage in a Bruce Cockburn song.
Perhaps that's why i like fountains: for the rush
they bring of a seer's spirit as in C. F. Meyer's strong
depiction of a Romanesque fountain: measured and lush
lines fall easily as water in a cistern worn by time.
So restful and soothing to older visitors is the sound
of Wright's Falling Water: tiered and nestled sublime
in Penn's Woods. But the children splashing in pool-like basin
laugh and taunt the guard in me; so out of the spa, i'll chase them.
(I'll probably slip like a keystone kop, as i do so!)
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