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  • Thanksgiving Everyday

    On Monday, October 12 th, 2009
    On a Thanksgiving weekend on a farm in Canada, we gather pumpkins from our patch by the barn, the seeds we planted in May swollen into orange suns of summer. And we pile the wagon high, too high, and the geese fly over, black arrows renting sky, season’s war cry before winter, and a Farmer
  • Don’t Be Afraid

    On Tuesday, October 06 th, 2009
    …a thoughtful reader sent this hauntingly beautiful poem of Jane Kenyon’s … “Let Evening Come” “Let the light of late afternoonshine through chinks in the barn, movingup the bales as the sun moves down. Let the cricket take up chafingas a woman takes up her needlesand her yarn. Let evening come…. Let the fox go
  • We Could

    On Monday, August 31 st, 2009
    She wades into wheat and I watch her go, her parting gold. Bowed heads rustle, whisper summer as she passes, skirt trailing behind. The grasshoppers light. Her hair waves, honeyed wheat. I notice that, watch after that. August drones. She stops, mid-field. By the lone maple, island green, she stops just there in the middle,
  • weekends are for gleaning

    On Saturday, August 29 th, 2009
    Eldest man-child calls for me to come see the gleaning, threshers coming behind. He knew I’d need to see. The heavy breasts, the long necks, arched, and the sway, gold ball setting gold over stillness… the occasional lone cry … it all lulls, choreographed. Till last light I’m held by sharp pleasure of summer’s last.
  • Waiting Hope (*update at bottom)

    On Friday, December 05 th, 2008
    White falls early, surpriseinvasion from sky, buryinggold, our gold, in winter’sgrip and I tell Farmer HusbandI won’t fold up autumn quilts flanking hearth,won’t yet gather up leaves and pumpkinsswagging the mantle,or cut greens and berries to deck the hallsjust yet, but I’ll wait ’til he minesthe last of our claim,claims the last of our nuggets,brings
  • They Come Together

    On Monday, October 27 th, 2008
    She runs and I can’t breathe. From the bedroom window, straightening out bedcovers, setting pillows, I see her bare little legs under that dress of hers flying over gravel yard. Her blonde curls fly too. She’s running into autumn. I only have sheets half pulled up, but I’ve paused, cotton still in hand. I have
  • Harvesting Days

    On Wednesday, October 18 th, 2006
    A jay calls this morning from the top of the burning oak down by the cedar rail fence. He welcomes autumn and the children. We congregate beneath the oak’s old boughs, bending low to comb the damp grass for piles of acorns with crooked caps. Soon Malakai wanders off to the tangled canes for the
  • Revisiting Soaring

    On Wednesday, September 20 th, 2006
    (This scene has been replaying…thus, the reposting from the archives)Yesterday was a day of flight, one of those days where your spirit lifts…and then soars. Up and into the golden.Shalom and I sat by the fence line yesterday afternoon, waiting, the combines humming their harvest song in the distance. We had come to bring meals
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