Poetry Daily: http://www.poems.com/


The low waves of Kansas plains
roll to the border of the farmyard
where Dorothy stands. The land arrives
to meet her eyes: timothy and coneflower;
tender, edible young milkweed stalks
in the pasture; and further, the rolling furls
of the plow's wake. She raises a hand
to shade her eyes and gaze at a speck
bisecting the horizon. It looms to a man
walking the cartroadóbut what is that
on his shoulder? Some sort of staff,
one end planed flat like a tassel of wheat.
Like some implement recalled from the barn
of her childhood, before the storm.
They meet. When she asks what it is, he twists
wrist muscles root-strong, plants it in the loam
as if he had a mind to set a beanpole,
or stake a scarecrow. An oar, he says,
eyeing the hanging bucket. Accepts
a dipper of groundwater,
gleaming and full from the well.

William Wenthe


Summer 2017

To view this poem online, visit the Poetry Daily archive at http://www.poems.com/archive.php