water from the well

the turn
of wheel wakes me,
its squeak and grind
as it cranks
down towards water
into the mouth of
circled bricks and stone.

along the marsh
the fog sits
fat
and white, grey.
unmoved
by you, at the well
bringing up
cold water
in your night dress.

the birds whistle
in the vague brush.
time
neither moves
or goes forward.

the moment is captured
in my mind.
as I peer from
the upper window.
loving you more
than
yesterday. my thirst
for you unquenched