God's Well, the sign along the highway says,

and in these times I'm glad to hear it.

But what if the sign is a lie, put up

by someone only hopeful, merely whistling

in the dark? Or worse, if it directs us,

sign by larger sign--10 Miles to God's Well,

then 5--to some spot where magnetic fields collide,

a crater flanked by hot dog stands

and cold drinks and, O, if we discover, exiting,

a bumper sticker saying We Visited God's Well

slapped on our car without permission?

At least we could take that marvel for a sign

of His existence, watch while Water Runs Uphill,

putting from our minds the scene around us,

children screaming, Grandma and Aunt Irene

photographed alongside a plaque explaining

what mysterious shiftings in the earth's crust

caused the wonder.

Leaning over the dark pit lined with stones,

we might forget all this and wish,

listening for our shiny penny to hit water,

waiting to hear it splash.

Engraving, William Blake's "Urizen as Creator of the Material World"