Monday, February 4, 2019


You Wouldn’t Believe How
We Have Never Been Apart

In the living room

she sleeps a very good sleep

the sleep of winter like the

forest brook we know now

rolling over into spring and she

rolls too toward me in her sleep

so at the moment she

awakens, looks a bit spring

startled, slowly standing

and now opening her eyes

there she is again

with me

who never went anywhere

who never would go anywhere

I am waiting while she sleeps

see the many blues of her necklace

the freedom of her bare legs

the spill of her sandy hair

for a moment she doesn’t seem to know me

it will be lovely to meet again


Where one

Iris grows


It would

Look better

As two


we saw the fox at a distance

hopping on three legs and

later went to find his snow

tracks crossing the pond

sure enough — three paws down

one paw up

this morning we found his

tracks closer, climbing the

stairs to a porch and stopping to

look into our bedroom door

Only Child

He is four years old.

Ask him — he will say

He is four years old but

Almost five years old.

It is winter time. Sweetheart

Has gone to town for errands

And I am home for the entire

Afternoon. The snow is deep

Enough to sled, we sled. In

The front yard, in the back

Yard, down the driveway hill

Someone drove their truck up

To visit and we use the tire

Tracks to begin our slide.

After awhile we sled across

The dirt road looking madly

Both ways, stopping above the river.

Its current gushing over ice.

When he was three years old

We all went down there to

Catch “lobsters.” Don’t worry.

Now he is four years old and

Buttons his own shirt in the

Morning, wears clothes like

Me. His hair is long, thick

And blond, perfect to mess

With my hands. After we sled 

He shovels snow into the sled

Says it’s rocks and this is a

Dump truck. Cheeks berry ripe.

He explains everything to me.

He is in the backwoods with

No friends. He deals with Jack

The dog, geese, chickens and

Cats like people. Don’t worry.

He wants to know where the

Boot tracks go that disappear

Into the woods. I don’t know.

He reminds me they’re mine.

When we go inside we strip out

Of warm clothes and together

Drink hot chocolate at the kitchen table.

He wants the spoon.

When done he follows me into the

Other room where I sit in a chair

And he climbs onto my lap.

He looks briefly into my eyes,

It’s been a wonderful afternoon.

He burps, laughs in my face.


Bob Arnold
Heaven Lake

Longhouse 2018