Kick the CanIn the long after-suppers of summer
kids playing kick-the-can, like tiny
ghosts running here and there among
the trees, across the lawns, hold off
the weight of darkness, and the lights
go on in houses; radios tell
the weather, Doolittle over Tokyo,
or R
obert Kennedy in L.A.
Hidden too well, deep in the barberry
by widower
McCann's white porch,
or in the tomato-patches in yards
beyond the
unlit alley, I hear
the can go clunking down the walk
and "One-two-three" and " All-in-free".
The years go by, I am not caught,
nor called home, all the
long dark long.
-Robert Wallace
Doesn't it always help to know a guy with a backhoe? Another part of the tree project was to fall the last big tree and remove the stumps. We hired our neighbor to come in and assist with that part. I am always amazed that people own these life size Tonka Toys.
The trees and stumps are gone from this island in the middle of the driveway
with a little help from the backhoe.
Just the limbs have started a nice wood pile for next winter... or... looking at the weather forecast for tomorrow... maybe a nice wood pile for this week-end. Snow in April?
