He took me down to the water's edge,
untied the boat, and rowed me into
the far-side lilies
in the dearest diminishment
of light. He built
this house
himself and sweated in
his t-shirt carving shapes
in the front-yard firs. He
pressed wine in the chilly cellar
and let me watch him
fill the jugs. He rigged a

tire-swing for me and made play pipes
out of twigs and acorns. He
found safe mushrooms growing and
knew a wild hike to a clear secret stream
that you would work hard to get to,
breaking through troubles of sweetbriers
and bottle flies, oak burls, burdocks,
midges, and heat
just to dip your thirsty hands
and drink.

Antiphon           2

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