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In the backyard, beside the rectangles the farmers designed in the vegetable field, there is a stone so large I wonder how it got there. There is no mountain near. There is a hill in the distance, but it could not have slid down to here. And no man could have lifted it. There is a stone in the field dark in the bright snowy yield of the year and I do not know how it came to be there. It has no tapers to drink in the stiff deposits of other years and compose itself of strangers. I think it came unbidden, like a chestnut mare in foal, to mutely dream in these dark reaches. In the yard there is a field, where a large stone stays and serves as a rest for work-gloves, hand-hoes and such as the year billows onward. In rows of tasseled corn and wild mustard flowers grown, it is diminished. In the lengthened days, when the farmers have gone away, I go and sit on its warm haunches. Until the moon rises like a field stone and reaches the blue cohosh blossoms, my mind is unconcerned with origins. |
| Jack Galmitz was born in New York City in 1951. His first book, a collection of haiku-verse, entitled The Effects Of Light, was published by AHA Online Books in the winter of 2002. His second collection of haiku-verse, Sky Theatre, is scheduled for publication by the Muse Apprentice Guild in the fall of this year. He is married and lives with his wife and stepson in the village of Elmhurst, Queens County, New York. email: GALMI7@aol.com |
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