January 31, 2008

Poem in imitation of Douglas Dunn's 'Land Love'

The gate is warming in the morning sun

and where it holds my arms. Over the fields

I see your head limp and I kiss our son.

The still cold breeze halts. It scents his hair

Where it stirs under my lips. Thin

and warmer; You approach us, bearing pears

in your thick arms. Our child gargles at the

orchard and the softening view. You

check, pause and smile in your journey.

Bulbous fruits red-rolling your hairs, and, damp

from the tree, wetting the shirt. You

are as toughened and tall he is plumped

and smooth.

The pears are for us both and our

fences whiten in the light. Faces

turning simultaneous to him,

pinkened by the wind and by the joy.

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