Our tomatoes are in, and as Julie was putting Clara down, Ted gave Joe a bowl and headed out with him to harvest the ripened fruit. When Julie caught up with them, the syrupy gold of the air, and the color of the tomatoes in the bowl, and the sight of Our Hero happily at his task, put her in mind of the final lines of a Billy Collins poem she's long loved--referencing the dawn as it happens, but no matter:"She will look at me with her thin arms extended,
offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light."
But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture him,
ReplyDeletebarefoot and full of fruit, standing outside my window
in one of the bright blue shirts of the dresser which holds many. He will look in at me with his arms extended, offering a handful of golden tomatoes and a small cup of light.
That makes a beautiful poem. Who in Anonymous? It is not me for sure. Grandpa Tom
ReplyDeleteGrandpa Tom, I thought it was you - the only Anonymous I know. The poem is beautiful and captures the cup of light coming off Joe. Maybe the poet will step into the light. But at any rate the poet will know how wonderful it was to open the comment under Joe's delightful photo and find the contribution of Anonymous.
ReplyDelete