In the new morning
Skies the bluest blue
Yarrow thick, a-blooming
Tiny daisies, bellflowers
She looks out toward the stable
Where she has her garden,
Nail up some trellis
On the south side, there,
She thinks,
This summer,
Hollyhocks
Beautiful velvety furling in
Warming morning sun
Out there in her garden.
She wakes up from the dream and
Here they are.
It is the summertime.
She watches him coming
Through hip-high bluestem
And wheatgrass on the path
From his house
Under the cottonwoods
Along the river
His blue and white unbuttoned
Shirttails lift,
Rustle of river wind,
Thermos glints.
She made a funny loaf of sorts.
They sit together in the brightening
Nothing’s ever changed.
There is no time now,
She sees it in his eyes, he sees in hers
The barest nod, the
Slightest shift of
Faint wind
In morning stillness
They catch
The old deep quickening
Sultry current,
Knowing precious in the air
That this is all there is
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