Paul Hamill

March 25, 2009

Rural People Tell You

Filed under: Uncategorized — paul @ 7:05 am
I refuse to say intimate              for knowing where in the barn
Shovels and burlap are piled           where snow melts first in the yard
But now and then a patch               of the familiar has an aura.  
Farmhouse outward, the embracing         widened; garden and orchard 
Dense with lives seen, scented,           inferred: mice, wasps, fruit.
Chores were wrapping arms                 around needs turned choices.

I became a miracle                of resource: light wiring,
Fencing, and vanity          at my own competence.

Rural people tell you          they like the life, always
Finding ways to keep busy              till some year they burn out
As if they were filling and trimming         an old fashioned lamp. 
In the old barn I trace           generations by dust
In adze-marks on beams,              old feathers, hoof-scarred planks. 

Cobwebs trail me out,        already my own ghost.

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