Every morning before I
walked to the bus stop,
crossed State Route 119
then listened for the bus
to crest the hill,
I drew water from the well.
It was the cooking and drinking
water for the house. Five gallons
to begin the day. No letting
go of the handle; a slow steady
winding up. The well door opened,
the galvanized bucket, then the trigger
release on the slender cylinder.
Repositioning that, tying off
the rope. Closing the door,
the walk back, then lifting
the bucket to the kitchen counter
by the sink. Books tied with a bungee
cord, paper bag lunch, a dime for milk.
Then off to catch the bus.
I’ve been drawing water all my life.
-Byron Hoot
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