Cowboy Song

My mother sits alone tonight,
lost on the prairie
in western Minnesota.

She sits in her worn flannel pjs
on her first anniversary without my dad,
alone in the chair where he always sat.

For more than fifty -five years
her husband sat
dreaming of the sky,
predicting the future,
like the guys on the 10 o'clock news.

He was my mother's cowboy
on the watch for everything; anything.

On the watch for the roof to blow off,
the pipes to freeze, the dog to die,
the crops to fail, the tire to blow out.

It could happen, you know.

This ritual is hers now,
after the hairspray and bad fashions
talk about the shootings
and the government gone wrong--
after they are done spouting off,
the real reporters come on
to tell us what they know
about tornados, drought,
and rain.

Before bedtime now
my mother is alone
and listening
to the raspy weather
that will gallop across the fields
to the soothing sounds of the winds whistling,

that never stop blowing
in that godless place.

On a Day Like Today

The sound of this rain
is like the gentle grinding gears
of a small machine
working past the shock
of full immersion
in the body.

Cleanse my mind
that I might renew
the celebration,
make me dizzy with dancing
and all the ways
we cleanse our souls
in front of all the other
souls waiting to dance.

Or better yet,
shock the gold finch,
the cardinal, and the broken
brown sparrow, by hollering
at my children to come home to supper.

The view from the ruddy rain and chill
is breath-taking.
The path to get there,
nearly impossible on a day
like today.

Wading into Winter

Near midnight
I feel the rumble of trucks,
not so far from home,
making their way from New York
to the east coast of Vermont.

The windows are closed
against the unexpected cold.
leaving us feeling the flashes
like shivers on our naked bodies,
against the summer sheets.

When fall swings into the shorter days
like a forgotten winter dream,
daring us like roulette to curse the cool,
we know better and put on a layer,
a sweater and jeans, and our high top Converse sneaks;
maybe even a shawl and heavy socks
knitted by someone's mother.

We know better to take a blanket from the linen closet
or even a quilt and rock quietly, or take a nap
before opening our mouths
to complain.

Any Northerner knows
that winter is always worse than this day
that feels like you are wading
into the cold water on an early summer day
when you just aren't ready
to take the plunge.