35) The Well

There is nothing left to pull from the well anymore.
We stare into it, as if it is a grave.
Overhead a flock of geese passes.
And at our feet, the spilled water expands
its rough perimeter. We Understand the crisis between us
is permanent. And then see ourselves
on the water's bare lens, our portrait, perfectly detailed
and minuscule.
The exhilarating life is finished. We must accept it
this late afternoon and move
back into the rational world.

---Christine Garren