Steel and Bamboo
Today we rake the leaves.
You take the steel
and I the bamboo.
Together and apart we raked
until the preacher came.
Today we raked the leaves
and I continued on
in the bright November sun.
And in your absence
I take up the steel
and move the leaves against the wind
as dreams float in and out of night.
Returning now, this time,
the steel is yours again
and naturally, I the bamboo.
There is no trailer to
haul them off, to contain
these wild children of the wind
tearing down the spring and summer
in their turns.
Today we rake the leaves
no time to dream to drift
except to rest to do the next
and on and on to the next
like the wind driven across the prairie
we take up these leaves
and push them one last time.
Errant boys some few
jump across the yard
with you giving chase
to finish the job.
The wind rides over the rolling prairie
up over through the cemetery
ridge, and trees, and on into the town
into this yard to whip them
in frenzy of anything but peace.
Today we rake the leaves
into the ditch, below the wind,
to be piled, burned and drawn to ash
each pile ending in scorched craters
soon covered in snow and
forgotten in the spring.
Today we rake the leaves
but we’ll not burn them yet
as they are all that is left
of the rustling remains of spring.
I taking up the bamboo, bending with the wind,
and you always the steel, alone
sitting in the dark like an owl
no longer knowing what to hunt
waiting to go to work.
Today we rake the leaves
and you stiff as the steel
in your hands continue on
to move beyond purpose,
beyond the need, beyond hope
until there is nothing left
beyond the leaves to burn
and those that have escaped.
Nokomis
November 7, 1999
Nokomis Series
©1999 Steel and Bamboo — Joseph W. Yarbrough
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.
You take the steel
and I the bamboo.
Together and apart we raked
until the preacher came.
Today we raked the leaves
and I continued on
in the bright November sun.
And in your absence
I take up the steel
and move the leaves against the wind
as dreams float in and out of night.
Returning now, this time,
the steel is yours again
and naturally, I the bamboo.
There is no trailer to
haul them off, to contain
these wild children of the wind
tearing down the spring and summer
in their turns.
Today we rake the leaves
no time to dream to drift
except to rest to do the next
and on and on to the next
like the wind driven across the prairie
we take up these leaves
and push them one last time.
Errant boys some few
jump across the yard
with you giving chase
to finish the job.
The wind rides over the rolling prairie
up over through the cemetery
ridge, and trees, and on into the town
into this yard to whip them
in frenzy of anything but peace.
Today we rake the leaves
into the ditch, below the wind,
to be piled, burned and drawn to ash
each pile ending in scorched craters
soon covered in snow and
forgotten in the spring.
Today we rake the leaves
but we’ll not burn them yet
as they are all that is left
of the rustling remains of spring.
I taking up the bamboo, bending with the wind,
and you always the steel, alone
sitting in the dark like an owl
no longer knowing what to hunt
waiting to go to work.
Today we rake the leaves
and you stiff as the steel
in your hands continue on
to move beyond purpose,
beyond the need, beyond hope
until there is nothing left
beyond the leaves to burn
and those that have escaped.
Nokomis
November 7, 1999
Nokomis Series
©1999 Steel and Bamboo — Joseph W. Yarbrough
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.