Showing posts from April, 2021

The Turning

 Things stop. There is a day before, a day after, Then and now, Which change in an instant. This is the moment I wonder about: The tractor in the field, its engine warm yet And the farmer leaving it there To dissolve into the earth Over time.   Time. Similarly the pickup at the back of the corn field: Who decided it need never run again? Things left and forgotten And the forgetting, an act of will. This is what I wonder about:  Why? The list goes on: The wheelbarrow left to rot Behind the garage, Its plywood sides split And swelling with dampness Full yet with weeds you pulled From your flower garden, Mom. In what moment did you decide That was the last time for you? I imagine you felt as solitary then As your Bean mocs are now  In the soft light on Dad’s workbench Clumped yet with the humus from that last day. Were your lungs tired After a day in the garden, On what would be Your last day fending for the flowers While Dad watched from the bench That stands there empty now, its stain b