poem of the day March 10


I am feeling old fashion

while walking with passion

along the old meadow tree line

Out with a bit brace and buckets

but no modern tools

I am the sugar man

in command of the field

I approach an ancient maple

that has stood for years

I notice all the old holes

now closed like a calendar

of  sweet nothing more  

I put my lips on the spigot

and wait as those before

for sap of my lover

to drip out the door