photo © bob arnold

BIGGER THAN YOU



So many have lived like I do in the far off country
And no one knew them either —

Farmers, Woodchoppers, Spectacles, Poets
Frozen feet inside well built boots gone worn

Work hands in big gloves
Nostrils watering and pinched by the blunt morning

20 below zero
River barely with a sound

That’s the ice —
Climb down through the trees, always get closer, you’ll hear something

Poem after poem I write and it's the woman I love who reads them
By firelight, by window light, by her own light

Not many buy my books in bustle world
Don’t fret, don’t weep, write more!

I write enough poems to fill a small book just
Carrying the ash pan out to the snow paths

Spreading ash onto the ice so no one slips —
First rule of poetry: no rules, Be Considerate

All of this is done in a day world of sunshine
Or beneath a night world of oh-my-gosh stars

Could we possibly count them all?




Bob Arnold says : it’s all in the title