The Well

Beside our shack,

  a pitcher pump

waited for us

  to fill buckets

when pipes

  froze.

We heated water

  on the stove

  

for rice

  dirty dishes,

and pan baths

  taken

 

at night

  since Mama  

worried about us

  catching the bus.

 

One evening,

  I stood

at the well,

  remembering

Jesus who asked

  the woman of Samaria

to give him

  a drink.

 

I lifted  

  that rusty handle

for hard water,

  so we could get by.

“The Well” was first published in Clinch Mountain Review (2018).
-Kevin J. McDaniel Poet, Pulaski Virginia