ruth stone’s house on a vermont mountain like a movie set fifty years before i was born

in 1989 we snaked our way through old forge and into ferry addled vermont on muddy roads

there we slept under frayed gingham between dingy floral farmhouse walls ruth above us

and in the morning woodstove frypan eggs before the ride into town for a lawnmower on the blue jay way

later in your yard waist deep in grasses i cut a snake in two and cried you nearly 75 glowed and consoled me

the printing press in the barn silent and rusting that night candlelight at your summer bedside you were sick and asked us to stay

but i already had legs for wisconsin and ohio my bags packed lakes michigan and erie strange attractors i found your book today

epw 12.30.07 perrysburg, oh