AFTER WORK
by Gary Snyder
The shack and a few trees
float in the blowing fog
I pull out your blouse
warm my cold hands
you laugh and shudder
peeling garlic by the
hot iron stove.
bring in the axe, the rake,
the wood.
we’ll lean on the wall
against each other
stew simmering on the fire
as it grows dark
drinking wine.
1 comment:
You're reading my mind!
I'm flying to New Mexico either Thursday of this week or I'll wait until next week, to look at Fritz Scholder's old studio compound in Taos. If it's not a total wreck, It's mine.
:)
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