Things Continue
The dogs have already run
by nine
on wintermorn,
clearing out migrant wings
near the line
where I've let the pasture go;
let it go to return
as forests of my grandchildren's
time. And it'll be a while
before anyone can walk
in shadows of those little oaks.
The tests will come back
today
and he'll know results
that will change
everything
regardless of what they show;
I said a prayer
standing in the backfield
there. And they say we've just
missed an Oklahoma ice storm
that decided to go north.
The smell of onion
on my hands
from supper
the night before, it lingers
still
like benevolent lightening scars
on west-facing glass.
Think I'll drive down to
Warm Springs today; there's a tea room
that mixes fruit and meat
beyond the point of caring.
~
words: L. Ward Abel, Georgia (universecanoe)
photo: Steve Wing, Florida (sand shadow) |