Sonnet # 3

Ruth laid down upon Boaz' naked feet
Offering herself to his redeeming hold
Boaz, thoughtful man, spoke without deceit
To embrace her honor and pursue her bold

Myself I find on the threshing floor
Debt'd to the man whose grain I partake.
At his bared feet I lay - aware the door
I was not bid to enter - his choice to make.

Perfumed, my skin well oiled, my head bare
My heart, my honor is tethered to the threshing
Floor, downcast. He continues in his repose.

Trembling and afraid I've misread his care,
His choice must not be swayed by my wishing,
To his pen I concede my verse to compose.

a poem pretending to be written about spring

The sky is painted in gray swashes of light
Today. How I long for the spring.
I gaze into the sky smiling,
The warm air caresses my cheek.

I smelled you yesterday;
A hint of what’s to come.
But how soon shall you come,
And how long must I wait?

I pretend to understand time,
My cryptic thoughts elude me.
My passions, my fears come rushing up
And I smile in sweet contentment.

The soil smells of daffodils,
The turned up lawn is full of the scent.
I gaze across time, bracing for the cold,
Looking towards the blossoms.

Sonnet # 2

I see you in a frame of silver on lace,
Your face immortalized in smiling beauty.
Sunlight streams through my window clouding your face,
my eyes strain; a practice of futility.

My appetite has left me, I cannot Be,
There is no joy in your absence and I wait
For a glance, a word from you to stay me;
The strength of my longing has made me faint.

If you could but despise me I could cope,
My mind would rationalize my heart's pain.
But I am tortured in unrelenting hope
And am left alone in sickness and in shame.

Come to me and gather me in your arms;
My heart and soul surrendered to your charms.

All Things Fall Once Through Their Rise

sometimes a dip in the graph,
sometimes falling off the plane
the golden leaf, the gilded berry, the soaring dove,
myself. my slope quavers in the wind with each additional variable.
heartbeat irregular and staggered
hidden behind a smile and a nod
Is there none to monitor, to track my course
through life? I wait, awake, for the final fall, for eternal tone.

Target Practice.

Cameron and I went down to the "bowl" to sight in a gun. I'm not sure how far off it is but according to Cam when he aims "at a cat's shoulder I'd hit its rump, so to hit its heart I'd have to aim for its head." Boys!
The box is about 50 paces away. Cameron's a pretty good shot. He had me try with the target about 10 paces away. I was directly center - and six inches too high. I think I should handle a gun more often.

The Canning Room

Washing maple syrup off a ceiling is surprisingly easier then I had imagined. I personally try not to get syrup on anything, especially not a ceiling but then I have neither kids nor a maple syrup canning room. I haven't seen the canning process yet so I'm still not sure how they got the syrup specks up there, but they're all but gone with a bit of hot water and a sponge mop. See the difference in the streak of white between the splats? The Doanes sell syrup from their maple grove in gallon jugs like these.

I found these labels in there as well, they go on the smaller containers. I've seen tin cans, maple leaf shaped bottles, pitchers. The syrup in the house is in small glass vials. I might post a picture of those. For now I must go wash my elbows; they're sticky from syrup water and gravity.

Sonnet # 1

Today was a slow day, people had to run errands so I just dawdled and sat, pensive. And ate... somehow I managed to eat a lot. So this poem I wrote seems slightly relevant. Cameron's grandmother and her dog are here. My gram has a dog that she treats like a baby, and this Gram seems to treat her dog the same. My mom, since she doesn't worry about the kids anymore, treats her stuffed animals with as much care as she would tuck a baby into bed. It's strange. Little girls "mommy" their baby dolls, and the highest rate of suicide is single men over 80. It leaves me with the impression that everyone needs to feel like they are need by or taking care of someone in order to survive. I suppose that is relevant too.


The pears upon the wooden table rot.
The sweet musk basks the room in stagnant scent
Recalling graceful dinners haply fraught
With fragile ladies on chairs with satin covers,
The sashes tied to rungs, as they lament
The loss of proper men and past lovers;
Lowering their sticks of pear in fondue
Of Gorgonzola and onion, careful
To ne’r drip at the empty space left in lieu
Of Alice, or this time, Jane. The carnations
Still sit in the sunshine on the table,
In dust shown through light of The Productions.
The pears becoming stains on the damask,
The cat, full, walking in the deep’ning musk.

Up on the Roof Tops

Today Cameron and I went up to Morisville in Lamoille County. We drove through Johnson and Ithial Falls where there’s a cute camp we may be working at for a week or so. They are nice little towns but more importantly, they’re connected by gorgeous mountain roads boarded by woods, and streams, and sprawling pastures. I couldn’t believe I forgot my camera. I’ll have to bring it next time. We went up there to help a contractor friend of Cameron’s with roofing a house. Cameron and I spent most of our time lugging plywood and shingles. Shingles are so heavy! The new ones were in 90lb packages. I tried lifting them but couldn’t and it had just rained so the guys were leery about having me on the roof. I was grateful. Instead I hulled several wheelbarrow loads of old shingles from one side of the house to the dumpster on the other side. We’ll probably be doing more work for the same guy day after tomorrow. I’ll make sure to bring my camera. Tomorrow I’m gonna trail Mr. Doane around the farm and see what he does more. I’ll make sure to put up pictures of that, probably more cows and horses. <3

Horses

This is what I'm most excited about on the farm. I'm up in Vermont on the Doane farm. I'm hoping the summer will be full of hard work and horseback riding. So far, however, it's been full of unpacking. That is almost finished and the first day is almost over. I am hungry. I think just being here makes me hungry. Rolling hills, green everything; it's delightful. Cameron and I just went on a walk to take some pictures. The first one is (left to right) Cameron, "Shadow" Royal, and Miss Ginger. We groomed them last night, and hopefully will be tonight as well. I'm still a little shy around them but I can't wait to make friends and go riding. The bottom picture is of Sunday Brook, about a 1/4 mile from the house. It's beautiful. There's a bridge right over the waterfall and very steep banks all around the brook. The climb down to where I took the picture was a little rough for this flat-lander but I'll get used to it soon. Cameron says there are about six other streams on the property. I can't wait to explore more. Though, I should get some better foot wear first. The fields are all mud yet. In the mean time; I will finish unpacking, do some laundry, and make myself at home.