Prize
Away from the road
Off into the high edge
Of a field, unless I
Looked carefully you
Would never have been seen
Picking wildflowers
Growing in folds of sunlight
Among the tall grass
Each snipped by hand
At the same height, then
Gathered inside a pail
Of shallow water
The world seems weightless
Watching you work
If this is work —
You call it a prize
Saved for the last
Hour of the afternoon
Taking away what this
Plot of land has to give —
Flowers for the kitchen table
Blossoms
Beneath rain clouds
She wheelbarrows
Loose black soil
Of daylilies
From the brook
To plant around
A ledge of stone
And in a month
She will smell like
The yellow blossoms
Warm
Apple, poplar, ash
Cherry, red maple
Pine, basswood, oak
These are the woods
That we sawed today
In two hours of thinning
Selecting, we made a cord —
Trampled branches on snow
Worked without words —
Simple thoughts, like picking
Up these sticks — back and
Forth in the mind — until we
Stop to rest together against
The pile, brushing off woodchips
Shedding hats and gloves
And because we kiss, I warm
My hands beneath your blouse
Winter Day
I swore if you laid
Your cheek, wind
Blown red as any
Soft maple leaf
Onto the pond
And looked down through
The half-foot of
Ice, the rest was
Water flowing clear
Way back up to you —
The scales of depth
Catching your breath
————————————
BOB ARNOLD
I'm In Love With You
Who Is In Love With Me
Longhouse 2012
