Two thousand meters high and a universe away from home

Sweat soaks my T-shirt as I labor upwards.

People scurry by me on a Mountain Path,

Carrying concrete blocks up the trail

On forehead tump lines. I gasp for breath as I keep climbing.

Clean water from a mountain stream

to Jaibolito seemed easy in our planning.

A dam, pcv pipe, pressure breaks and tap stands

For village houses and the square.

A painted wheel marks our work

While the village priest blesses theirs

And women marvel at time saved,

The water at their very finger tips.

For now, we touch each other,

Knowing that clean water saves lives -Who knows how many?

But one might be the savior of her

Country, a great poet, or maybe someone who, like us,

Answers another generation's needs somewhere.