At dawn I squat on the garage with snuff under a lip to sweeten the roofing nails -- my shoes and pant cuffs are wet with dew. In the orchard the peach trees sway with the loud weight of birds, green fruit, yellow haze. And my hammer -- the cold head taps, then swings its first full arc; the sound echoes against the barn, muffled in the loft, and out the other side, then lost in the noise of the birds as they burst from the trees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COWPER'S GRAVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE ONE GRAY HAIR by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR FROM AN EXCAVATION ON THE WARRIOR RIVER by ESTHER BARRETT ARGO EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 23. SOONER WOUNDED THAN CURED by PHILIP AYRES |