Sunday, April 24, 2022

Holy Well

 

Hope hangs from the trees,

prayers dance;

the sick, the love-lorn

click their fingers;

an enamel mug keeps watch.


The sun and moon try to see

but cannot;

the stars try to land

but cannot.



Stone-made water

nestling in earth’s clasp;

dream of every thirst

always watching, silent as wisdom,

still in thought.



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