Poetry Ancient Well

The World Between the Words

Obscured, hidden by ferns and moss

Echoes of summer days now gone

With excitement rushing through us

We remove the slate; we uncover the well.

Cool fresh; a distant black mirror

Peat moss, grass, a smell of burning turf

Below the ground silent and mysterious

Cupped hands for us to taste

Fresh like sprinkled dew; cold as hard frost.

As a very young kid we holidayed on the North West coast of Ireland - the area was very rural and remote with many places not having plumbed-in water. My Mum's old homestead was one such place, and every day we would go with my Dad to the underground well nearby and fill up two enormous enamel buckets with water.
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Beautiful, Jonny! I could see, feel and taste all that :) (and I loved your end note; it's always lovely to hear where the writer is coming from, what inspired them).
Thanks, Emily. I did wonder about the note and whether to leave it to the reader's imagination. I'm always 50/50 on that sort of thing.

Glad you enjoyed.
So much said in its brevity. I particularly liked 'We remove the slate; we uncover the well,' it has a ritualistic feel, especially with the words 'distant black mirror.' Reminded me of scrying and more so with the evocative words that followed. Beautiful.
Thanks, Galadriel.

Pleased it struck a chord.