Extra minutes

Let down your burden
and give me a light
and while the rays peter out across the quiet road we’ll sit here on my porch

You can tell me why you never kept a woman by you more than three months
and I’ll try to tick out
why I left the employ of a family that was good to mine my whole life

Give me a light
and we’ll take drags on half-cracked fancies from our imagination
as we survey the lazy river
from the broken swing on the porch whose underpinnings
I should have shored up years ago

We’ll tell a tale or two and make up some new ones
lessons that come as echoes from the land
or from the first stars that peek out of the deepening blue above us

The way you know me
is as aged as the seeds that drive the wild brush through the hills around
and as long as we can keep this up
a spirit will fill the emptiness around the darkened yard

Andy Oram
June 27, 2013

More poems