from the ford

from the ford
we saw a slim woman 
dark hair and a blue silk scarf
and a little boy with yellow shorts
his stick poking tuffets

the creek 
made exuberant noise
and little white

and the wind
strung laughter
from her face

I remembered
she was a young German woman
who married a farmer
and makes fine rooster soup

we waved
but didn’t stop
to change the scene

we drove into a heron-love sky
elegance circling  
three dead trees
silhouettes in ribbons of sundown

as we wound up the mountain
I regretted not stopping

5 thoughts on “from the ford

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