Sap
In slush of the laundromat
Parking lot, stepping
Down out of his old truck
Rubbing a big hand across
His whiskered jaw, we
Have known one another
A few seconds as I
Load three sacks of
Clean laundry into the
Trunk while he quickly
Sizes the Dodge up and
Down, glancing at mud
High on the doors, sipping
The warm sun on his
Face and the spring
Feeling he gets that
Makes him have to say
To anyone who will listen —
Bet the trees are pissing today
Wood For Water
How
come this night
You
wash in a pan
A
shallow draw of stream water
Spilled
down from wild apples
Of
the mountain, where deer
Browse,
make trail
Leave
droppings
Hand
over hand, you may
Think
of it this way, or
Water
that simply flows
Spreading
into a sound of peepers
Where
I’ve entered
Truck
low geared
Flushing
every redwing
From
trees we were to clear
Blackberries
grew then
Tickling
stone walls
While
working in the heat, high boots
Rolled
pants
Many
came apart wet in my hands —
Couldn’t
save any, not even for you
That
was a half year ago —
Now
dead wood dropped, hauled, split
Chickadees
perch closely, fluttering pine
There
is firewood to stack dry
Someplace
through winter
At
night you bathe cold, cold water
Heated
warm —
When
you dress you forget underwear
And
the thin white blouse —
Just
a dress, sleeveless and red
How To Make A Decision
This morning very early
Thinking to catch a logger
At home and knowing full
Well he would be deer
Hunting I called anyway
And receiving his wife
On the line who was not
At all helpful or friendly
I decided to call another
Logger who was off deer
Hunting but his wife was
Forthright and clear and
Honest and I decided to
Buy logs from her man
Tough
Leaf hangs
To one beat-up
———————————
Bob Arnold
Once In Vermont
Gnomon
