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Bedazzled
by Sharon Ruetenik

 

A woman, a man, a woman
enter spring. They lean
on the steps of what was
once the farmhand’s home.
Together they imagine
his evening; worn boots
tread worn boards, wide
faced wife, auburn waves
bundled, a supper of fried potatoes,
Sunday’s left over ham,
a stack of biscuits, and dessert,
blueberry, no, gooseberry pie,
they debate. The eldest son
says grace, and later by lantern
light, a reading of Psalm Eight,
the miracles of God’s fingers—
the farm hand studies his own hands—
then calls gently to his wife
for a cup of milk and honey.
In the darkness, he wishes
his four sleeping sons sweet
dreams, reaches for his lavender
scented wife.

A woman, a man, a woman
are in love this first day
of uncontested warmth
and light, in love
with the story and shadows
they create, the corn shucked
decades ago, the ghosts of lowing
cows, the lulling voice
of the eldest son praising God’s
graces, the son of man’s bounty.


Most they are in love with one
another, chaste as angels,
yearning as beasts. On this rare
day all they need do is reflect
one joyful figure, a family
sound, devoted as the farm
hand’s clan, under
this earliest sun, bedazzling
in its generous, rapid ascent.