After “Hayfield Valley” by Christine Labich
Windrows roll over
hot summer/ground
like water when it becomes
billow—rhythmic, unending
lapping field edge as if
a shore, tucked, precise.
And there is a god here
breathing out July sun-
sighs/moist, golden.
Roping the hill in
neat tunnels of grass
drying, unencumbered.
Light as cricket/dragonfly
touch-down then lift-off
above the valley ahead
flitting into swoop-again
pausing in these swales
before another gleaning.
Ellen Stone is a retired special educator and mother of three daughters living in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She spends her days with her 13 year old chocolate lab/Weimaraner mix, Molly exploring the woods and sidewalks of the subdivision she lives in–where she finds her poetry. Ellen is also a gardener, baker and cook. She calls the Appalachian Mountains and north branch of the Susquehanna River in northeastern Pennsylvania home.
© 2024, Ellen Stone
Halfway Down the Stairs 