poetry - jack sender - all of my life
the town we came to last
October with Catherine my daughter.
the town is Wooster,
an R instead of W and you'd have Rooster.
an hour away when you figure.
good weather, good country drive.
ordered the Evelyn 13 again.
leftovers were boxed and became supper.
John walker caught me, turned came back
we talked the morning with interest covering his current book and frogs.
i explained how the principal takes a position.
he will look now to see who is boss .
i have to speak up for him to hear.
John lives in his world as i harbor mine.
we are comfortable talking.
i made a four line poem as an example.
that's how comfortable the space john gives me.
always i'll speak louder, more clearly.
he walks miles each day.
i call him john walker.
a good soul.
skip the prediction.
sure we have the complete thick
all the way up and across, from one
side to the other plus up and down,
it's totally gray with no darkness
anywhere.
so it doesn't seem like rain will fall.
not immediately.
maybe after a while.
three minutes after i finished writing this
i turned my back and
it began to rain ... hard.
with expectations that never again
to wake thinking, worrying
about the great black work being
done on our driveway ... good luck.
today they pour, roll and spread smooth.
will it smell?
and the rabbits keep away?
and, yes, we've good weather;
there is no rain.
