Farmer’s Market Sonnet 4

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There’s something missing from the farmer’s stand.

The lettuces and berries (straw) are there,

And herbal odors waft and fill the air.

But I don’t see the sexy farmer man.

Where could he be, my Farmer’s Market beau?

Perhaps he moved on to a different site,

Or kinder town?  It’s possible, he might

Have gone away for good.  I miss him though.

I miss his willow arms, his nightdark hair,

His smile when he’d bag a peach for me.

Sometimes, he’d offer up a taste for free;

That smile was not the only thing he’d share.

I yearn for him, his vegetables, and fruit. 

In me, his seeds of love have taken root.

Irony with Goat

This summer, I am taking a poetry writing class- 6 weeks, 6 poems.   I'm excited for the opportunity to write weekly, to be in a community of writers.   I wrote the poem below for the first class.  Not very subtle, it expresses my desire and excitement to start something new, to try on a new role.

The Goat

“Race horses and goats have been befriending each other for centuries. For whatever reason, the goats seem to have a greatly calming effect on race horses, who are often extremely temperamental.” –Jill Harness

When he awakes,

the goat knows.

Is it the

sunlight streaming into

the stable? The

smell of May?

He trots out

through the open

paddock door.  All

the jockeys’ eyes

on the mares, 

no one notices.

He saunters into

the empty post.

Man O’War and Seabiscuit

flank him, curious.

Do they look

down their noses?

Shake their manes?

Stomp their hooves

in puzzled confusion?

The goat ignores

them. His eyes

clear and focused

down the furlong.

He doesn’t hear

the crowd, the

horses, the flies

buzzing his tail.

All he sees--

the track unfolds ahead of him.

Ready to run, the goat leans forward.

John Andrews  6/25/14

The great irony of the day is that the goat never started the race.  Today, in the first class, we went around the room discussing everyone's poem.  But we ran out of time, and my poem and another person's were shelved for next week.  The goat will have to spend the week in the  post, pawing at the ground, not quite making it to the finish line for a little while longer.   You can't make this stuff up, people.