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Collected Poetry

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Beating Heart, Dancing Feet  

  Uncle Bill Fixes to Ready the Evening Light 


Articulate and simply proffered, the light
was never errant or misplaced. It was, to us,

of simple interest—like a summer dress, shiny
new shoes, or a hair ribbon. Even so, we joked

and made wishes and felt privileged to be witness
to this release of autumnal light. Light like

a thin blanket, light on our opened palms
and on the geese by the cow pond and
      the brown leaves
crowding our abundant garden—Aunt Sarah
brought out supper and soon Uncle Bill put

his pipe down on the fabric of the tablecloth.
There was something in the space between them

that I could clearly see, and feel, and know
it was where I might always find them.



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