We stumbled often on the stubble from sunrise until dusk
grabbing fescue sheaves under each arm
standing back to the wind
to thrust the stalk butts into the earth
...
the chatter of children
on the morning of Christ's emergence
& a cat scratching at the door
seeking the comfort of flames
...
At three weeks we took you out
to Sizzlers to celebrate
& you cried most of the time
so Grandma leaving her dinner
...
gliding spontaneously without reason or desire
no thought of being right or anything else
herons skimming over water
signwriters painting a banner
...
Lifted up by a slight breeze she spun off
floating away like fine chaff
but he with his feet stuck in the web
dangled upside down for many oblivious nights
...
per sepia
a paradozy to acanaemics
up again in the heat of spring
& the grass was parched last summer
...
'I am one of those people who let's life wash over me'
an old classmate said that to me after rehearsal
at the Playhouse in the early 60s
...
That day the tiny flies that are the native honey bees
licked our skin for salt & it tickled.
So the kids searched for the hive high in a tree
...
sun flowers rise elegantly at dawn
saluting the sun
their faces follow our golden orb all day
crossing the fields
...