Well’s being

Like the old poet we had a well to look in
With a bucket lowered gently to touch its
Perturbed waters in their broken moons.
Midnight was fearsome with green snakes
Lurking in ghostly hibiscus trees standing.

A boy in knickers could not bend too low
For fear in belly, with no Narcissus -love.
Fear perked up like a piece of balcony sky
And crawled in half-pants to feet below.

The bucket fell to it with deep dull thud
As its rope had slithered down a pulley
Like a vague water snake searching frogs.
The waters came up to sprinkle moons
In tiny puddles on the stone saucer rim.


About nisheedhi

Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests
This entry was posted in Nature poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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