IN A CABIN. . .

BOB ARNOLD









TO HAVE


To have every bird in the woods

Finally sing and I am known to it

Is all the morning I ask


To see the flower garden

Move as a dress on your body

Is all the day I wish


To have the stars rise from the river

And you think of me not as crazy

Has to be the night ahead







THE SORT OF WORLD I LIKE


I’m on the roof today cleaning the chimney

Without a sound a bicyclist floats by on the

Dirt road along the river and spots me and

Shouts, “Your house looks great!”


I’ve never seen her before

I look twice to make sure I haven’t

Nope

Don’t know her


But she’s happy








UNDERNEATH THEIR CALLS



Imagine —
hiking at


the end of
the day up


through the
woods and


into a
room of


owls

HER BEAUTY


She has been sick for a long time
a year growing into two


not debilitated, just sick
not herself


I ask her if she ever
feels like why me?


why can’t I be normal
like everyone else?


never, she says
quietly


unlike most every
one else







SLY


By truck we were

Heading home the same

Time we saw fox heading

Home by the side of the road

Muddy legs like quick

Moving boots he made

His way and I swear

We looked at him

And he looked at us

And the Earth was whole









IN A CABIN, IN A WOOD


It’s a good day —

my work boots are off

socks too


I have rolled up

5 inch cuffs

on my jeans


I’m in a short sleeve

green shirt

no belt


we cut the grass

now heavenly

barefoot


my love is naked

except for the red

dress she’s thrown on


waiting for a rain

that never does

come


we draw buckets of

water for new plants

from the farm pond


cordwood

we cut crackles dry

in all this sun


let the satellites that

circle the earth

try to find this

photos © bob & susan arnold