The woman
sat by the well,
weary and hot,
with droplets
falling from
her brow.
In her eyes
(if you looked
between heartbeats)
was a yearning
for someone
far away.
She was wistful,
with a tiny tear
welling up
underneath
her fragile face.
I could almost
hear his name
spoken
on the winds
of the desert.

Read more "The Woman Lifted Her Water Jar"