The Liming of the Fields

The lime on the field is a promise fulfilled. It says, “I will restore what I have taken,” And, “I will replenish that which I have used.” The stockpiled minerals are reminders— Reminders of entropy, erosion, and diminishing returns— Reminders of the Fall. The farmer’s lime is an acquiescence, An acknowledgment that time is precious,Continue reading “The Liming of the Fields”

Down the Cellar This Morning

Suddenly, without warning, without precedent or prelude, On a dreary January morning, in the grey and lingering damp, It happened that Summer startled me— quite unannounced and unexpected. It shocked me, there in the cellar, sifting through cobwebs, extension cords, milk crates, and mesh bags of walnuts— the implements and incomplete aspirations of Saturdays past.Continue reading “Down the Cellar This Morning”

Ode to a Housewife’s Mixing Bowl

Appurtenance to a small appliance, Instrument of domestic industry. Kitchen companion of thirteen years, Caressed by thirteen thousand scars. She is more anvil than hammer, More mule than Muse. She is a basin, not a fountain, But from her arms are borne the cakes of joy, the bread of life, and the loaves of consolation.Continue reading “Ode to a Housewife’s Mixing Bowl”

A Few Things at the Hardware Store

Left at the registers   past Paint and Stains     to Aisle 6. Fastener type   Material     Screw type       Size and length         Head style           Drive type There it is—   the drawer,     the box,       the Stainless Steel         Bugle-Style           Philips Head             Coarse-Thread               #10 2-1/4”                 WoodContinue reading “A Few Things at the Hardware Store”


Every summer it happens—It happens that I become paralyzed,Paralyzed, that is, with the decisionAs to which of my girlsTo nickname “Peach.”The paralysis stems from the considerationThat each one is worthy,And to a verifiable extent:Dear to my heart,Locally sourced,As fresh as summer dew,With a hint of tartness,Rosy as the dawn,And a sublime companion to waffles. JulyContinue reading “Peaches”

The Desk of My Daughter

The desk of my daughterAt the window facing westIsn’t cleared before dinnerDespite her mother’s behest. A clean desk would be(Though it’s never been seen)A surface that’s flat,Polished, shiny, and clean. But much like the worldOn the Out side of the pane,The girl at the deskNever stays just the same. She’s constantly growing,Thinking, changing, creating.The worldContinue reading “The Desk of My Daughter”

Gray November

Like the first few flakes of snowOn the leaves of rusty brownAre the first gray hairs to showIn the beard beneath my frown.Snow is “early” in November,And I feel too young for gray—But then again I can’t remember What my face felt like clean shaved.One by one the flakes compoundAnd still Fall’s rustling with a hushWhileContinue reading “Gray November”