The Farm in June
by Brad Johnson
|
My grandfather built
this house and made plans for these
two hundred acres.
His initials are in bark.
The water flies skip across
the pond until they are gulped
under by fish mouths.
Tomorrow I plan to fish.
After a full day
of hard chopping and mowing,
I sit quiet and drink
lemonade from an old cup.
The turkeys and geese
are circling and making
their last calls for dusk.
Summer makes us tired.
Amazing how grandmother
still has energy
to yelp and chase her black dog
through the tomatoes.
|
 |
|
|
Copyright © 2024 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors. No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author. |