Pastoral
the wind laying grass down
the field mice scurry
lawn chair overturned
and I scan the horizon.
Backwards daffodils
leaning away from the breeze
nearly touching the still hard earth
baring their bloom to the chill
the wind stops silent.
Transluscent the way that
skin can be in the sun,
I carve an onion for cooking,
a savory plan for salmon
in my gourmet magazine.
The daylight dwindles,
evening sounds and cats' calling.
The rabbit thumps around
the spotted dog is anxious,
it's supper time on Concord.
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