Friday Double!

Dry Well

I reach into the well

For water, cool and clean.

The bucket comes up empty.

No laughter, no joy spilling over

Splashing on the rocks.

I squint into the bucket, caught off guard,

Run my hand along the rough metal of prior use,

And rusted hope stains my fingers.

I can feel the iron's cold impassivity,

Metallic, foreign, lifeless.

But what of the water?

Where has it gone?

Leaked out into the desert around?

Evaporated in the scorching sun?

Dried and withered, leaving gouges,

hardening in the mud?

I will wait for the rains.

Mend the cracks in the wall

and pray for the rains.

Pray that they come soon,

Filling creeks, springing life

Cascading with light and laughter,

Tumbling merrily over rocks,

Dancing in freedom and hope

as it flows through the land

Then perhaps, in time, the well will fill again

And we can draw water, pure and clear.

A friend
Through the gate and down the ...high street
Past rows of houses to the village outskirts
Cool red brick and sun dappled hedges dissolve
Into quiet green havens on rich loamy dirt.
A dream carries me

I peddle down trails towards this oasis
Calmly expectant of what will be there
Shimmering coats cloaking elegant forms
Long flowing tails and nostrils that flare
I long to see

Bike leaned against the old wooden fence posts
I snatch at cool grass, quickly filling my fist
Sneaking one hand past heavenly gates
Held open, revealing juicy grass wisps
And I wait…

Watching each move of these beautiful creatures
Gleaming in sunlight, whether chestnut or bay
Hoping they’ll come to eat this poor offering
Before casual breezes steal it away.
And it is too late

Sometimes each step as they graze slowly brings them
Near to the fence that forever divides
And my heart lifts in hope that I’ll briefly taste freedom
Whispered in snuffles of horse-murmured sighs
Of understanding

Warm neck of soft satin, smoothing my fingers
Steadfast heart calmly echoing low
Gentle companionship soothing my soul
Nickers of comfort and peacefulness flow.
And my soul sings.

I see in his soft eye galloping meadows
Joyful canters through pine scented trees
Feeling the ground churned by his hooves
The breeze swirling with him amongst dancing leaves
Without end.

He shares all of these for a handful of grass
And crops there beside me, just over the fence
And I bathe in his presence as minutes slip slowly
Enthralled by his beauty, lost in the scent
Of a friend.