brown, brittle grass
prickles and stings.
Bubbles of dirt
crumble and snap.
Slowly, carefully,
I climb the dusty hill
like Gogo taught me—
One foot forward—
stop.
The other foot forward—
stop.
I stretch out my left arm.
My right hand
hovers close to my head,
ready to catch the bucket
if it tips or slides.
Slowly, steadily,
I climb and climb,
careful not to move my head.
Careful not to spill
the smallest drop of water.
