Monday, July 26, 2010



In that moment it's just a matter of forgetting
her and you will be busy inside yourself, identity-
laden, the way you launch yourself into a moment
of fear, or embarrassment, even congratulations.
At the end of the street is a pause where you look
up and notice it's only a two way stop.
Be careful.


A small boat made of the heat and
far-off sounds carries us upriver.
There are villages amongst the green leaves
and docks stretching like hands beckoning.
I wish for oars and rudder, and the motion
of my arm throwing rope toward wet wood.
But my hand is cupped over my eyes. It seems
the sun doesn't want me to see the humor in all this,
the smile on your face, the color of your hair.


Now the rain passes over you, a curtain, light,
like a soft shadow. You hear her voice and
notice rain has its own color, not quite this or that.
She is singing then. You remember this moment.


Kathleen said...

Ahhhhhh.... (thank you for a wonderful poem).

ron hardy said...

Your welcome Kathleen. I'm glad you like it. You mentioned your parents live here in Akron. It just occurred to me that I had three aunts and uncles attend Normal when it was a teacher's college. They lived in Bloomington when they were alive. And I was born down the road in Urbana when my dad was going to U of Illinois. No memories, moved to Ohio at 2. Of course this is only a coincidence if you are living in this area.

Laura said...


Kathleen said...

My parents grew up in Akron but live in central Illinois now, where I grew up. Aunts and cousins still in Akron, though, and sister in Columbus, and I went to Kenyon, so I get to Ohio now and then!