Poetry

Return to the Farm

Tucson, 1986

I hang out wash on an Arizona morning.
Damp cotton clings cool on my arm.
Wooden pins and curve of rope,
sun yellow dress, dusky rose towels,
underwear bright spots of blue and pink
against the smooth sweep of sheets.

Down the path to the hen-house
I find three eggs under the straw,
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Four Poems

First Day School

We gather the children,
the tender and shy, the mischievous,
lead them to a jagged beach to find
their treasures of stillness
while their own parents settle into
the meetinghouse to gather
Light. We let the children wander
between piers, time dissolving
into moistness. One boy with purple
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