What's your wild idea?
I.
with a new one, milled round and freshly treated.
below where the cedar post finally rotted off,
Stubborn stobs of one-time branches anchoring it to the ground.
With a great heave and expelled breath that old-timer finally lets go.
But after tamping all the dirt back in…
I wonder that it never fills the hole completely.
II.
even if a little out of place in sneakers and sideways cap.
I wonder what will happen with those low-belted pants
and grimace every time he leans over to dig.
I thought I was young, but he must think I’m old.
I allow that he’s got try, and I think he’s getting the hang of it now.
But the deadman is upside down and backwards…
Like an old-timer rolling over in his grave.