Solo
I find
New stars —
New designs —
Without the
Chart in
My hands
Vow
You
can think there is
But
there is nothing
Quite
like you undressing
Me
who has undressed you
Treasure
it’s
snow
falling
into
her
hair
pail
of
grain
pinning
onto
a
heavy
wool
shirt
walking
back
from
the
hen
house
eggs
inside
her
mittens
Thread
Take a blanket of red wool
Fold it into a cushion square
Beside flames of the wood fire
Where lamplight of the room
Falls the best, and right there
In the heat, away from winter
With your loom of sanded birch
I’ll watch you weave the moon
Stars, river and mountains
From a trail we’re on of thread
———————————
Bob Arnold
Once In Vermont
Gnomon
"Bride"
photo ~ bob arnold
