Lasting
What a beautiful day
No matter how trite that sounds —
After days on end of heat and foul weather
Rain, storms, even tornadoes south of us
Which brought us hail here in the woods
Sounding off the steel roof like sparks!
Today the breezes are back cool across my face
Along my ears, on the cheeks, over the brow, to the hands
I imagine this happening to anyone close by
I’ll read a few more poems by Santoka before I head
Off to the woods with splitting maul & wedges
An old apple tree fallen to the ground awaits
In short lengths I cut it into last week with that heat
The bugs, the mud, the last of the blossoms on the tree
Which I waited to fully blossom and die before I returned
Hurricane
It isn’t right
to have the sea
come to us from
the sky but on
Sunday that’s what
it did and every
one and every thing
that was once born
paid for it whether
there or not which
is the real message and
shape of this earth
Could Be
This has to be love —
she could be anywhere else
she could be under soft quilts asleep
she could be in a warm kitchen stirring
she could be in a playground watching what she loves
she could be in the garden dreaming
she could be walking the dog, petting the cat, singing with a bird
she could be by the ocean with all the day ahead
she could be in another's arms but no
she could be and is in my arms
beneath the driftwood of huge trees brought down with a flood
this little cave we've made under horizontal trees
it looks possibly dangerous and if it all collapsed
we would be crushed
and she has joined me there
while it rains
Garbage
The ugliest house
on the road
has all the butterflies
—————————————
Bob Arnold
— End of the book, see you in a few weeks with more
Bob Arnold
BEAUTIFUL DAYS
Longhouse
— End of the book, see you in a few weeks with more
