I can’t hold April from
Six feet away, can’t
Smell her, kiss her,
Taste her from behind
This cotton mask.
A spring of many mouths—
Chickweed opening its lips
To the anxious wasp,
The first drowsy honey
Bees, pollen-thick thighs,
Tongues licking purple red
Buds, lavender-perfumed
Lilacs. Dogwood spied
Spectral through the
Greening forest—
All at a distance,
All a lost season where
The world is suspended
Upside-down in a sky-
Bound drop of dew,
Plashing love—don’t think
I can’t hear you,
The sound of your passing
Fingertips, caressing
The empty air,
Holy as the sun, still
Seen behind closed eyes.
This AM, December/27/2020 I finished reading “Gaining Ground”. I really enjoyed reading your search for life on your family. Your writing style is, to me, very lyrical and engaging. Had I read this book when I was a young father investigating a different life than my family was living in the “70s” I would’ve jumped into farming with both eyes tightly shut, hoping I didn’t collide with hidden boulders under water. With my wife, I chose a different path which became very successful for some years. I identified closely with your father, but recognized the seeds of my destruction in my eating choices, hopefully in time to “do something about it”.
I do not want to consume your time with my musings, suffice to say I am very impressed with the life you have lived in gaining ground!
May GOD bless you and your family with long and exceedingly happy living!