What’s to do that’s “billable”?
and ring the kitchen table.
and to the kitchen window goes.
futile guard against the blowing snow.
two have roosted in her heavy limbs,
indulging boyhood’s secret dreams.
her wood can heat the kitchen.”
I got a scratch that needs some itchin’.”
Granddad has not forgot the day
he watched his father slip a spade
into the ground,
and press the earth back down.
no longer sought nor asked for their concurrence.
understood as well his son’s impatience.
and birds’ nests found; and shaded afternoons.”
“Two hours cutting and we’ll have a warmer room.”
rubbing, with his other hand his drowsy eyes.
and lift his hands to catch the snowflakes flying by.”
and looking up he drew the old man’s smile.
"Worth more holding Twig, I guess, than lying in a pile."