Homestead #7

homestead-7

When I was a child I would carry the bucket twenty-seven steps to the well.
I would turn it over and stand upon it to reach the pump handle.
Nine times I’d have to pump, to prime the flow.
Two hands and a clenched jaw to carry the sloshing weight.
As the years past, my steps were fewer and my clothes dryer.
This is how I learned to count.

-Em

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