The Well

From Snow and Summer, 1975,
by Solveig von Schoultz

Early in the morning I go to my well
sometimes so early that the pail fills with stars
sometimes in the night I go to my well
lift high the handle,
lower the pail
down into invisible blackness
down into unseen coolness.
The well is deep.
Each morning I've time to fear
that the water has sunk down into misty darkness,
and the chain will be swallowed by thirsty walls,
throat go dry,
heart shrink

pail hit bottom.