A Splash from the Iron Spout

I walked down the block toward the park path, eager for fresh air after spending the morning sleeving records. Near the shade of two tall elms stood an old cast-iron water pump bolted onto an octagonal stone slab. I climbed onto the edge of the stone base and reached up to grip the curved iron handle with both hands. It took steady, downward pressure against the stiff pivot, but with a firm heave, the leather gasket inside groaned, followed by a sudden gush of clear, cold water splashing into the iron basin. A few cool droplets sprayed across the toes of my boots, catching the bright afternoon light.