You see a man walking the lanes & aisles
of his vineyard & now
The spring tendrils stretch beyond his reach
& you see too there’s a black dog
Beside him a blissful Lab who slices across
a horizon still white with dawn
You see this landscape is the landscape of
my valley the one I remember
Out of the plunder that is the swollen glow
of reflection & so to you I’ll say
That a man is walking & I’ll tell you now he’s
an older man & do you see his son
Behind him only nineteen or twenty no more his
wool sweater wrapped
Around him the color of the dust at his feet
a rich gold without equal
& now the sun begins to rub itself across
the sky & this is the dog’s life
Yet also the man’s as well & he knows soon
this boy will be leaving the valley
With a girl even younger than his son
in a silver Pontiac LeMans
North along Highway 99 north all the way
until they cross into Canada
Where anyone who wants to send his son
to die won’t be able to find him
& so there among the aisles & lanes & heavy
grapes the father stops & the dog
Stops to turn & face the boy who drags a hand
slowly along the Lab’s silky head
& quietly wraps his skinny arms around his father
& in the vineyard dust that’s all
from The Southern Review