VENUS

She stays in town a week. Here in the country
Night life is active and I don't sleep.
Stars are out in every direction and under them
The hill behind the house is solid and black.
A low one sticks on top and flickers there.
I stare at it until it's only a point and goes out.

The kids leave on a light and trees are white from it.
Window squares make shadows on them with vertical lines
And I go turn it off. When a glow begins to form
Hours before dawn the forest has a jagged edge
And above it the brightest one lasts the longest of all.
Big pine nearby raise their arms in a curve.

Mornings I get them out on time and they horseplay
On the side of the road waiting for the bus.
They do a comic ballet in baggy clothes with bookbags.
Small evergreens dot the field behind them and the rest
Is a jumble of color and straw all the way to the river.
They don't see me from the window and I don't wave.

The land grows over and I bushhog it end to end
Taking my time. Where it's dry milkweed and aster--
By cattails and reeds wheels dig in and the blade
Kicks up black dirt and sand. At a high spot
Fine grass is pressed down in waves like water.
The sky is white and mountains are lost in haze.

The moon is out and it makes a half circle
The color of clouds. Days we don't see stars--
I guess at her location by angle and distance.
Pine is soft but aspen and cherry are vigorous
And spring back. I go over them again to be sure.
A bird calls from high up and I can't find it.

She gets back the next day. When the fuss is over
We take each other's hand and walk out where it's cut.
Along the fence by barbed wire and the old elm she finds
Raw green and black berries together on one branch
And a prickly pear that's bright apple with soft spikes
In bunches on a vine. We don't find them in our book.

We pass the spot the old timer has his garden.
Up for the weekend to the cabin years ago it takes us
Extra days to fix the pickles and tomatoes he brings.
The river is dry with wide shoals that stretch across
The open space to the opposite side. What water there is
Stands in pools by gravel and sand in a narrow channel.

The sun is low and the glare from it makes points
And long rays that slant down in a red dazzle.
Trees grow up on an island of washed stones.
The old butternut along the bank is bare
And the frail branches hold out their pulpy fruit.
Turning back we look up to see the first one out.

We have candlelight dinner by ourselves and clink glasses.
She has an understanding with her Dad about the money
And stays with East Side friends who dress up and go out.
They shop and do the galleries. We see a white crescent
And we skywatch at the window looking for the star.
The place is empty and dark until they meet.

We finish up and linger over the wine. The Whitney
Takes a trip up the Hudson and after the Big Bang
Everyone is his own philosopher. There are clearly defined
Periods of expanding matter and collapsed perceptions.
Upstairs I say Let's not talk and we undress.
It's always better after she's away.

Jay NY 10/2/94