And so I begin to carry water, bucket after bucket, up the steps and into the garden.
Up and down the steps I go, in the cool of the morning and the cool of the evening, carrying bucket after bucket of water. Yes, I know what it is to have lost the well.
And to my surprise, a small poem forms, popping into my awareness like a baby courgette.
It all happened so fast.
of shining life
into my body;
is not what I do
for the real