Water from the Well

 

WATER FROM THE WELL

Mary Jane blessed herself and sighed.

says she to Mick,

Them childer

are at the well again.

away up,

make sure they don’t fall in.

Belly flat we lay

my sister Gertie

brother Thomas

and I

fishing the bucket,

about

Mick plods up

the rosy path

clamours over the stile,

taking out the stump of a fag

he sits

his favourite place

the bark of an old gnarled tree.

What are ye doing

there? he sighs.

You’re getting all wet

and dirtying the clean water,

besides

Reluctantly,

the bucket filled

we move aside

water slopping

on our sandaled feet.

Soon, the hand changing

begins

the dribbling bucket,

is passed around,

less water in it as we ran about

at last

we reach our mother’s side

her hands

covered in baking flour

What kept you? she chides.

there’s about a jug of water,

In the bucket now

enough for a kettle fill

 

Passing Mary Jane’s roses

again

we clamour over the stile

and lie, wet belly down

floating the bucket

about

Mary Jane sighs

and

Mick

without bidding

pockets his fags

and heads for the Well

again