Monday, April 30, 2018

GLADE ~








Glade


                                           for SEA




the woodcutter

never gets it —



while he sleeps

firewood seasons







Where the tall hemlock

crashed down in the woods

taking away its shade



now a sunshine

with only benevolence

runs along its spine








work clothes off

back into a skirt

you show me

at supper where

the log today

bruised your shin








right behind

and nearly under 

the truck we spread

the Mexican blanket

to take a nap be-

tween cutting wood

because the sunshine is there








the apple today

isn’t as tasty as

the apple yesterday

you packed for me

at lunch when we 

break from wood-

cutting and the two

chocolate kisses you

never forget to bring








the same time

we are cutting

all this wood



the tomatoes

back at home

are ripening







the ash trees by the truck

are so willowy and tall I

hate to cut them down

to dry that way through

fall, winter, spring and I

will visit them again by

summer with my saw

meaning business







I can’t help but stop

to rest and sink my

woodsmear hands

while hugging you

down inside your

overalls and now

your smile at my

touch of the 

silkiest things








without looking —

too busy with axe

chain saw, wooded ground tumble

we hear hawk, bluejay, sparrow, owl

chickadee & a few things unknown








It’s a glade we rough out from

blowndown oak and maple trees



woodcut and hand-split circle

of sunshine and scrabble



we could almost call it home








before we hiked in for a look

then drove in getting serious

with chain saw and tools



everything was just fine

(and rotting)








I said

we could make love

right on the tailgate



33 years

somehow never done



she said she would

but in the deepest green woods

someone could be watching







I can split red oak on the run

rock maple with three whacks

I dream about it now




—————————————
BOB ARNOLD
I'm In Love With You
Who Is In Love With Me
Longhouse 2012


 



2 comments:

Luster said...

Bob,

These poems show a life and a view of a life anyone would hunger for. Me, I'm starved.

stay close,

Mike

Bob Arnold / Longhouse said...

Mike,

You say you are starved, and I say you are giving.

all's well, Bob