photo © bob arnold

BOB ARNOLD








DREAMERS



To reach down at knee height

And bring your hands up under

Her dress and rise without

Hesitation or any resistance

Is naked








KINDNESS



No one spoke to her much, how strange —

Not family or friends and even those who

Sat with us at meals couldn’t say a word to her

Or even look her way. That must be beauty.

But every time she went to town and was alone —

A pretty scarf, an intriguing handbag, forever

And ever elderly women in parking lots and

Aisles of stores sought her out. This daughter

Whose own mother wouldn’t speak to her

Had women without daughters

Eating seed from her hand.








A HAPPENING



A year, at least, since I’ve

Had the chance to talk

To any neighbor


From afar I see one hike

The muddy road in bright

Pants and dull winter coat


For some reason she turns around

So I lift my arm and wave

And she waves

photo © susan arnold

DAWN



To live by a woods river

Forever is to finally

Forget it



& to remember

It again

Is something







NO OTHER



After she was sick awhile

She became thinner

Still young enough and strong

Her moves sexy

I couldn’t keep my hands off her hips

The attention delighted her

She blushed instead of being too confident

Her hair fell to pieces like always

When she looked up my sky was blue

At night she fell asleep by the wood fire

There never would be another woman

Rain at the windows for days was welcome

In times of trouble no one wanted to listen to this stuff










ONE WORD



Finally a blue sky day

And you do the wash!

Then you go and hang everything

Out on the line, a place reached

Through two feet of snow, rotten

Ice and a pathway I shoveled



Colorful wash all day

Blowing in the wind



At dusk you go pick

Dry clothes off a rope —

For a moment your billowy

Red skirt, violet sweater,

Bright long hair blowing

In the same breeze



I come to help as

You hold one garment up to

Your face breathing in the

Fresh wash and all you

Say with a smile is

“Woodsmoke”

photo © bob arnold

AWASH



That night it rained through the woods —

The moon was gone after days

& days of brilliant light



Love a world

You can’t

Control