Wondering if I've prepared the reader

well enough for the ending.



May Twentieth



On this day

a woman full of years---

wearing a wide-brimmed hat

and big overshirt--- sits low on grass,

faces a highway, a freshly dug hole,

and small shrub. She sits cross-legged

like a girl Grandma Moses might paint

into a landscape. As we rush past,

I wish aloud for a photo of her.

My husband slows down

and makes a u-turn.



We pull into her gravel drive.

She looks up as I pop out of the car.

The woman pushes fatigue to the side,

and I get permission to take the photo shot.

Surprisingly though, she will not take

my extended hand to help her stand.

Instead, she rolls over on her knees

like a camel, then rises.

There, she stands tall telling me

of her vision:

a flowerbed with forsythia

dripping bright stars

onto silent daffodils.

Yellow on yellow.



An artist at work

spreading light.

May Twentieth

On this day
a woman full of years---
wearing a wide-brimmed hat
and big overshirt--- sits low on grass,
faces a highway, a freshly dug hole,
and small shrub. She sits cross-legged
like a girl Grandma Moses might paint
into a landscape. As we rush past,
I wish aloud for a photo of her.
My husband slows down
and makes a u-turn.

We pull into her gravel drive.
She looks up as I pop out of the car.
The woman pushes fatigue to the side,
and I get permission to take the photo shot.
Surprisingly though, she will not take
my extended hand to help her stand.
Instead, she rolls over on her knees
like a camel, then rises.
There, she stands tall telling me
of her vision:
a flowerbed with forsythia
dripping bright stars
onto silent daffodils.
Yellow on yellow.

An artist at work
spreading light.

Pat

Artist at Work

On this day a woman full of years--wearing a wide-brimmed hat and big overshirt--sits low on grass, faces a highway, a freshly dug hole, and small shrub. She sits cross-legged like a girl Grandma Moses might paint into a landscape. As we rush past, I wish aloud for a photo of her.

My husband slows down and makes a u-turn. We pull into her gravel drive.

She looks up as I pop out of the car. The woman pushes fatigue to the side, and I get permission to take the photo shot. Surprisingly though, she will not take my extended hand to help her stand. Instead, she rolls over on her knees like a camel, then rises. There, she stands tall telling me of her vision: a flowerbed with forsythia dripping bright stars onto silent daffodils. Yellow on yellow.

Pat

Artist at Work

a woman full of years--
(I would indent these two lines)wearing a wide-brimmed hat
(I would indent these two lines)and big overshirt--
sits low on grass,
faces
a highway,
a freshly dug hole,
and small shrub.

She sits
cross-legged
a girl Grandma Moses might paint into a landscape.

The woman pushes fatigue to the side
and my extended hand to help her stand.
Instead, she rolls over on her knees
like a camel, then rises.

She stands tall telling (I would find another action verb) me
of her vision:
a flowerbed
of forsythia
dripping
bright
stars
onto silent
daffodils.

Pat

Pat, I enjoy the picture you have painted. At first I wasn't prepared for the writer being in a vehicle so I was startled at ...as we rush by... but it does fit with ... facing a highway... some nice images... full of years... pushes fatigue aside... I can feel this poem. I concur weth Todd regarding more linebreaks but fewer than a possible chop... Too many breaks might lose the music I sense in this poem. Maybe delete the last two lines since the reader already knows that AND the lines tend to "CLOSE" the poem too much. Nice work... Thanks for sharing. Dewell