"Spring Harvest"

 

The Mennonite boys came

with a mother, this time. Her gold

disk earrings molten in cold spring.

Dusk hovering long enough

to gather spent milkweed.

Frank, who will study in Utah

gets it and gathers fistfuls of fluff

quizzes me about seeds

and cooking, while the brothers

dark and light, thick and thin

tug spent stalks from rain-softened ground

filling my bags. The mother

gave herself another chore

and cleaned my yard of errant trash.

After thanks and thanks, I sat

in the graying glow, pulling

seeds from silk, happily finding

glistening, unopened strands

in overwintered silver pods

listening to far highway's shush

and close songbirds celebrating

the coming warmth

 

 

"Haiku"

 

too early the phone rings

no message is left. sweet dreams

of walking undone