Tuesday, July 5, 2016

BLOSSOMS ~







Quills



He didn’t move —

With pliers I

Pulled 16 of them

From mouth, lips,

Nose and head —

Like last year

It is early spring




Hemlock



When the big hemlock

Washed down river

During one of the early

Spring runoffs, I went

Down with bowsaw and

Sawed off one large

Limb for the cabin

Steps handrail, and then

Went back and brought

Home a dozen smaller branches

Thinking they could be

Used for something —

Although they have only

Stood up behind the woodshed,

Bleaching in the sun,

Warping away from

Straighter timber

They once knew.




Friend



This sparrow must

Love the sun —

All day it has perched

On the stone well

Beside the empty

Trough of seed



All day its feathers

Lifted in the breeze



Its head turning

The oddest angles



If I could have him

He would fit in

The palm of my hand




Blossoms



Beneath rain clouds

She wheelbarrows

Loose black soil

Of daylilies

From the brook

To plant around

A ledge of stone

And in a month

She will smell like

The yellow blossoms



_______________

Bob Arnold
WHERE RIVERS MEET
MAD RIVER PRESS



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