The Girl At the Well

Silently
the girl at the well
draws up cool water—
the divine
blood of life—
lifted from mother earth,
to soothe her parched lips.

Many years,
many weary days,
many miles
she has walked,
her bare feet coated with dust
from the sun-baked earth 

Wind-kissed cheeks
in the midday heat;
eyes like pools
reflecting
the weariness of her soul,
she rests her burdens.

And at dusk
when her day is done,
the night breeze
softly sings,
like a minstrel, to her heart,
gently embracing.



march 2005
Janet Reid