We worked in the meadow
where all day
the haybine and rakes
wove patterns in the green
quilted rows and stitched textures
of mown hay, now windrowed, drying
Late, towards evening
we walked over sharp stubble
where the mouse’s forest
and shrew’s jungle were cut
where swallows shifted fast
on quiet air, gathering insects
now shorn of cover
Thus it is as we weave
each day
as green is cut and dried
for winter
as we walk closer to our own fall
where we imagined once
perpetual summer
Dusk drew in the coolness
and the lower world went black
as the sky percolated with pinpoints
planets first, then the greater stars
finally the great ribbon of the Milky Way
I, looking up from our murmuring earth
know that even the fixed stars move
that all the constellations change
and some day the Great Bear shall dissolve
the Serpent and Cassiopeia too
as shall we
but so much sooner
and take your hand against this night
and one more time
fill my head with the fragrance
of your hair
and new mowed hay
