The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by Taylor Graham

To the Man at the Feed & Seed


I love how you sunny the depths of barn

as I back my little car in. I love the way

your arms are brown as buckeye on the tree.

Those arms could handle anything.

I love hearing you murmur to your partner

in your language—I can't catch the words

but it sounds like wind in orchard grass.

I love how you lift the bale of hay

with twin hooks, like an offering, 

and place it gently in the bed of my car

so the springs sigh. I love the way you

manage the trick latch of the hatchback,

softly as putting a cranky child to sleep.

I love how you make no promises beyond

"have a nice day, ma'am," and how you

ask nothing of me in return.

Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication