deep inside an empty well
dark green with speckled silver moss
mute stone
soprano drips
my wet hands lifting up above my head
grasping rope which winches
  slowly
    upwards me
      up onto my toes
        then grinding past the hewn walls
          towards a glowing disk of night
            a starlit darkness
              high above
and then
  out into the full cold air
    above the stubbled fields of mud
  higher than the trees below
    which rustle so
  lifted by a whispered wind
    unmask the gentle curving earth
  drifting back
to black