Fall-Winter 2010

Seasoned

Maureen Kingston

His body
so like
the land
he tends,
ripened
soybean
hair, a
pumpkin
scar fading
along his
shelterbelt,
his gait
uneven,
sluggish,
like the
sated
pheasant
cock in the
switchgrass.
He bends
to the creek's
will now,
snagging
the bit of
driftwood
shaped like
Gabriel's horn.