In the Details: Trinket

Trinket

I have unreasonable fantasies
In which I am wearing a brimmed hat and
Sweeping raw wood floors in a cold 
House on the edge of the farm we've just
Settled. Idiotic dreams in which 
I've dug my own well, and that's what I 
Did last week, and before that, the 
Neighbor's son had to run down to the 
Creek and haul back our water.
I've got stupid visions that find me
Eating just those things I'd
Grown, canned or killed.
Moronic imaginings where I'm
Sore from hours work just keeping
The few things we have
Nice, and you
Bring home one day
Not a goat or a wool blanket,
But a clear blue
Stone. And I dream you burn
A whole hour at your tools
By kerosene light
Just to find a way
To put it on a string
For me.

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This post is part of a the poetry series, "" -- daily poetry and photos, inspired by where we live. 

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