Pool Fever
I must go down to the pool again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
with apologies to John Masefield
Well, no seagulls this far inland, and the call of the running tide is the gurgle of the hot spring water gushing from the lower slopes of Mount Makiling.
But it is a call that may not be denied, and it's been far too long since I last heeded it.