the road to the well

slowly picking her way
along the trodden path
dry,
lonely
a badly balanced bucket
over her head
on the road to the well.

no chattering birds or women
to cheer her along the way
not when the sun is high
there's no one
to notice,
to laugh,
to talk
on the road to the well.

there's a man
setting on his own
opposite of herself
his eyes reflect the sun
they behold her
shaking form
on the road at the well.

"give me drink"
his only words
reaching out
to a woman who walked
alone
wanting solitude and attention
on the road at the well.

"i will give you
living water"
water not drawn
but received,
water that forever quenches,
flowing from an eternal spring
on the road at the well.