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A year nudged an appointed hour
and we moved from that town. The street
we lived on stops in 1937. The house
we'd filled with Christmases stays on an old
corner of December. There was no mystery
to that neighborhood, a father spading
a tomato patch, a mother setting
teacups on a card table. How clear
and simple to remember, gestures
of need and love that got summer ready,
placed Sunday evening in mind.
Yet now, at the chime of a day,
the flicker of time through an elm, look--
Gwyneth and Floyd and my sister
sit on the porch, men are loading
the truck, all is gathered again, a vivid
assembly, a presence, a mystery at last.
And that afternoon enters the long
crooked passage to this recollection.

Cover drawing by Monte Antrim.

28 poems, 52 pages
ISBN: 0-935306-43-9
$9.95
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