Monday, November 27, 2017



She’s supposed to be land clearing

Heaping brush to burn in first snow

But the pale yellow ghost of tall

Summer grasses she sweeps down

Is instead caught in her hand

And placed that way in a kitchen vase

Showing a warmth to last us through winter

Show Me

I don’t walk this

Early morning, frost

On the mowing, but you do —

And when you return

I’m sitting by the

Cookstove warm as you bend

To shiver my neck a kiss —

Show me what I missed

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

The Pleasures Of Love

The last of my noon hour

Black tin lunch pail

Sitting on a sap soaked maple stump

Woodchips nettled on my woolen socks

Finding a fruit cup she made for me

Clear cold glass in my oiled hand

Neat slices of strawberry and pear


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