Morning Water
Every morning she awoke
in the darkness before dawn.
She threw on her pink dress,
rumpled from the day before.
Gathered up her matching bonnet,
and stained white apron.
Then took up the old water jug
and whispered out the back door.
The sun barely peeked over the hillside
as she entered the town’s stone square.
Her feet found the steps
as her eyes searched the streets.
Down and down she went,
until the jug bumped the trough
and she blinked at her reflection
in the rippling water.
Brown hair tried to escape
the ill-bound bonnet.
She never bothered to tie it tight
this early in the morning.
She leaned in and raised her jug
placing it under the spout
letting the water splash
into and out of her container.
The cool liquid felt lovely
on her heated skin.
Summer already poised to vanquish
the lingering Spring.
The sky ever lightening,
her feet aimed her toward home.
A soft noise brought her eyes
up to the young man
leaning on the low wall.
Blushing, head demurely low
she sashayed over to the grey stones
that separated boy from girl.
Whispered words were exchanged;
blushes and stammers too.
But, like every morning,
time ran against them.
And work and family
soon called them away.
