Roof to Roof
Youíre off again, leaping from roof to roof,
and I in your wake, sweating. Whatís joy
to you is labor for me, and then, Iím afraid
to look down, worried about the tap-tap-tapping
of woodpeckers at the siding, or the drone
of wasps around their bulbous nest. We pause
by the eaves; you offer me a hammer and a glass
of wine. We trade eyes, and I see storm clouds
as they gather strength over the Dakotas. What
you see I can only guess, but itís making you
laugh, making you float into the upper branches
of cottonwoods, your mouth filled with the flavor
of this day. Already youíve made it crazier
than most. Only morning, but the seams have
ripped in this bag where we stuff the past.
We ride toward the future on the shadows of wings.
If you have any comments on this poem, Steve Klepetar
would be pleased to hear from you.