Leaving For Work
I
could hold you
All
morning like this —
Loose
summer dress
In
my hands, brush of
Sunburn
on your shoulders,
The
feel of your waist,
And
a game of tip-toeing
Who
is taller, as we kiss
And
won’t let go
That's Her
doing farm chores, lugging
water she hikes through a field
of wet grasses in high boots
old pants & cap, a red tee
shirt she slept in & much
earlier in bed I raised this
& kissed
her kissed her
Wait
All evening
A swallow has
Swept the grassy
Farmyard for one
Shed goose
Feather to stitch
Into her nest —
It is easy enough
For me to pick
Up — but I watch
Instead, until
She has it
Lucky
She
is right, this woman
I
love, it has been a windy
Fall.
And her blonde hair slips
Apart
in long strands and with
One
hand she combs it away from
Her
face and she is smiling. For
Lunch
she eats an apple and suns
Her
legs, a summer skirt raised.
She
is a mother. A small boy is
Napping
upstairs in the house.
When
awake he will chase
Leaves
that fall down from the
Sky,
that’s how he sees it.
He
calls me daddy because I am.
When
I was off at work this
Morning
up river laying stone
Along
the road in the village
A
blonde woman and her young son
Visited
me. Hands cold gripping
Wet
stone, boots chalked. This
Woman
carried her little boy
In
her arms, his green sweater
Was
like the one my son wears
His
mother knitted, ah the love
Of
mothers! and I gathered stone
By
hand and thought of blue sky
Above,
day clear as the river,
And
why you must love what you do.
_____________________________
Bob Arnold
ONCE IN VERMONT
Gnomon
photo ~ "Early Spring"
by bob arnold
