Well

 

Well (Randyjw; January 14, 2017)

 

I didn’t know

that the well,

long since dried,

could once again

be filled

with the tears

that I cry.

 

No longer

the bitter sulfur

of desert waters

held in accursed lakes

could poison

the sweetest springs

from which I’ve drawn —

a thirst to slake

 

Gone down into earth

sure feet on cool stone

and tracing the path

of trails tread alone

the amphorae filled

with its vessel overflowing

that its sides might swell

and its shoulders soaking known

 

unburdened as emerging

into the light

reached down toward the vessel

and set it aright

and strode the path

and shared the cocoon of quiet nights

watering gardens

in moonshine’s beaming sight.