When some old man cries "puddle wonderful"
And I rush out in the warm Maine mud
The new grass green of the young May morning-
Lilacs buttercups hepaticas flood my embered mind.
For a moment let's loft in that springtime sun-
Woodpile Long axe
Chopping block shavings
Pine scent Tall trees
Green spills Stavings
Secret path Swamp ferns
Skunk cabbage Thickets
Tinney's Brook stepping stones
Maple sap spigots
Bridges' hayfield Brown-eyed susans
Golden ryegrass Buttercups
Tiny violets Dandelions
Umbre field mice Umbre pups
Orange glow beneath the chin
Look out love I'm falling in
Down Bridges' Field to Henry Rush's gravel pit
Banks of earth piled high on which to sit
See the pool where Dumpy drowned the cat
We felt bad but Dad thought that was that.
At the bottom Rush's theater
Morning silence Earth bowel heat
Hear one rock fall
Dry caked mud smells May morning sweet.
Warm mud Slide track
Up the bank
Moody's pasture Maggie's farm
Old Post Road paved down to the village
Beatty's barn Gordon's grocery
Shortcut downtown pass through the cemetery
Family graves where future friends are buried
Jaybirds Catbirds Chicken-hawk Crow
Two paths Yellow wood
One good Go
The moss covered rim of the ampitheater
seats but one bug-seeking swallow this May morning.
Far below on the stone stage
a lone man cleans the rain spatter
from the sculptured feet of Pan.
The floor around is worn by the shod soles of thers
who over the years have come to touch and stare.
as the rain
place tick-mark spatters on the aging stone.
another tiny rock rolls down the empty aisle.
The much too clever swallow
hops over an empty seat