the day is like a book

Two strips of brown earth
in raised beds capture the sun
like soup for baby green heads
and lettuce,
fence posts,
ants in the grass,

where I dig a hole
for the new tomato plant.

She opened a few yellow bright
eyes to look around this morning.
Stretching those crooked arms
and gazing sideways.

I walked barefoot along the cement path.
The birds line up in all the trees
to enliven the leaves, notes
falling down with the green.

So many colors of green.

Ebony and Kona wait for their walk,
I hear them shuffling and tapping
their feet. A mouse makes a small
clicking noise in the nightie drawer.

The day is like a book. I set it down,
I pick it up. Turning one page, the
yellow sun has drained into gray-white
linen.

The dogs are quiet. The mouse is gone.






for the farm in all her glory

Sorrow

Sorrow is the heart, a beast,
a sparrow turned away
from you,

from the face,
of the sun
still warming

the empty cage
in the room of my ribs.
And the river

which ran so freely,
now knows its name,

oh sorrow,

oh dear heart,
dear beast,
dear sun.

Let me never forget,
your warmth,
your face,
your river.

We are an empty cage
here in the room of ribs.

I can't bear to see your face
right now, sun, oh sun.
How I loved you.

And from here
who knows what strange steps
we will take. My anchor pulled,
off I drift

in a boat
warm with sorrow
sparrow face,
a river
unable to carry you.