just above the pond
rock book, no pages
it is a funny thing
i've been on a vacation of sorts
incapacitated by lethargy begotten by hard work
very hard work.
and so, now i take my time.
i walk around this christmastime and gather and search and seek
like some madwoman wishing a true sign
(and the snow has all gone away
and the damned ticks come out to see
if it's spring just yet.
cockroaches and ticks.)
what do i find?
strawberry leaves, green and red,
shallow mud holes,
dogbane and milkweed
whose fibers i happily strip,
stuff my pockets,
and bring home to make twine while we talk
after supper is done
but the stories are not.
so, there is this lariat of twine
good for use.
used for good.
black and mahogany and white
this string for you, my friends.
a string of pictures
ruffed grouse just drowned
old barn foundation