Spirit Whispers: Well

For Jana.

An hour of work
to pierce a pair of square feet,
roots hidden, shallow and fierce
beneath the surface.

I pierced, pulled, pushed,
watering as I went with
drop after drop
of my sweat.

My blood simmered as each stubborn stem
gave way to me.
I tossed each aside,
and then there were none,
just strands of what had been,
and loosened soil
for new planting.

A recluse pattered by, catching my eye
as I dug.
I offered a gloved finger
then blew the spider away.
Not now, my sister.

And I dug,
earth spilling into my gloves,
painting my hands with crust.

The succulent fell into the place I had made for her
with a sigh.

I stood, turned, and gathered the remains of what had been
into the trash bin, to be transformed
into compost for another life
to beget life.

The faucet squeaked its protest as I turned it.
When I found the nozzle's boldest setting,
I sprayed away the lifeless dust around the brick-lined abode
until my two square feet
and their new in-dweller
were alone.

Tonight, under the starry sky of the searing desert,
they will begin to confide their deepest secrets,
and learn how to feed one another.

And dear Lady Succulent-
with her thick, soft skin
surrounding mighty wells of gentle balm-
she and her loamy lover
will teach me how to live
well in the desert.