Time uses the seasons to frame our perspective. |
Distant Summer's Rain on the island was a meadow where the chimney had burned down and the farmer sighed and broke the bread and they passed the hat around out here there's nothing sacred except the children and the cows and they never talk of sorrows just the rain that's falling down there was thunder after supper but no one seemed to care they just looked out on the ocean and they wondered what was there schoolgirls in the garden there rose a Planter's Moon one day they're gone forever when the sun comes high in June old Ben believes in fishing it's the Gospels he forgets but later he's reminded when he bends to mend his nets his wife is in the kitchen she's smoking like a pine and the cats are on the table but neither seem to mind down the road are apples in an orchard by a cove and the locals bring their buckets but they keep their voices low on the out-road there's a teacher and he works his hands with wood he knows that things done rapidly are very seldom good there are strangers on the mainland who ply their trades somewhere Ben heard them sing at Easter he was sleeping in his chair the folks here don't fear nothing except the killing frost and the preacher he don't bother with the souls he knows are lost the landscape burns like fever and the bones they turn to dust and Ben will wait a lifetime for a neighbor he can trust the winter brings a warning and a blast of arctic wind and he wonders how the roses always make it back again he sees the faces missing in the pictures on the wall how time plays out each season and frames us one and all. 2009 K.L. Stover |