Monday, November 21, 2016


Gathering Wood

Dark dark in the woods

My son walks, stumbles

Over brush and limbs, looks

Where to step by watching

My legs — how I do it —

Carrying the saw, not

Much talk (he is only two)

But instead we seem to be

Singing quietly about end

Of day around us, the tall

Trees taking light, his hands

Grip dry sticks for a cookstove

And the love of his mother,

We are heading back home

5 Year Old Logic
On A Winter Night

Under quilts he

says he is too hot

folding down the bed to

a sheet & one blanket

he looks up & says

he is too cold


We hiked into the woodlot first snow

Brought home a tree for the holidays

Misshapen hemlock few would look twice at

And because you were sick we held the

Tree outside the kitchen window for

You to see, smile, nod an approval

Point quickly to a chickadee

Off on a high branch

End of Story

Looking out at the hillside

Across the river and over the

Trees from our home Carson asks —

“Did we climb that mountain?”

I say, “No, but mommy and I did.”

Nodding, he decides, “Oh yeah,

We climbed that before I was born.”

Another Simple Story

We skated and skated

Later looking over

The lake north to

Snow clouds coming

And skated some more

(you do that with a child)

And because of that

Drove home in snow


Bob Arnold
Once In Vermont

painting by Bob Arnold 

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