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and I rode

the blue hills before dawn,


barns, sprinkled building blocks

along the grey roadway,


tanker hugging the curves.

He was young and I was ready.


What sparse words we had

for each other, thin as the stream of blue milk


he unloosed from the bulk tanks

chilled gush sluicing through silver


pipe into the truck while we sank

on hay bales, slid into each others fingers.


How regular the lapping – tongues

filling the milk house with liquid


rocking gentle as lake waves

rolling over sand banks, slowly seeping


in deep. The milk tanks close,

emptying, filling. Interrupting us,


again, again, all through

the creamy morning light.


Ellen Stone taught special education for over 30 years in the public schools in Kansas and Michigan,  Her poems have appeared recently in Passages North, The Collagist, The Citron Review, The Museum of Americana, and Fifth Wednesday. She is the author of The Solid Living World (Michigan Writers’ Cooperative Press, 2013).  Ellen’s poetry has been nominated multiple times for a Pushcart prize and Best of the Net.

© 2018, Ellen Stone

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