The Deep Well
written by: Robin McNamara
@robbiemac72
I go to the well everyday,
Sometimes drawing water,
Other days none.
The well is as old as the oak tree,
Upon the farmed land under,
Rained skies.
Built by my Grandfather’s Father,
During a time of drought,
The well gave hope.
It’s stood through storms,
And through many wars,
Quenching soldiers thirst.
A savior in times of fire,
A resting stop for travelers,
And their weary horses.
When I draw water,
The farm is nourished.
My children’s children –
Will use the deep well.
APRIL 2021 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Robin McNamara is a widely published poet from Ireland. His debut pamphlet, Under a Mind’s Staircase was published with Hedgehog Poetry Press (2021). Recently nominated for the Pushcart Prize for ‘Apple Picking Season’ from Under a Mind’s Staircase. His first full collection, Monochrome Heart is due to be published in 2022.
Latest posts by Robin McNamara (see all)
- Mountain Soul - November 2, 2022
- Torn Away - July 30, 2022
- Planting - May 9, 2022
