“the fingers on the rim, as the poet put it.” —George Seferis, Mythistorema #2*
The wild fig tree that has put down roots Deep in its depths and taken over The well’s mouth tells us no more Wishing here—the ropes have broken And the grooves on its lip serve
To remind us those lines of maidens Who pulled up pail after pail of water Year after year have long since departed, And where once there was nubile skittery, Domesticated stony silence is all we hear.
*The “poet” referred to is Dionysios Solomos,
and the phrase cited is from his prose work,
The Woman of Zakynthos, Chap.I.