by Danny Earl Simmons

Turning black earth against twilight
as muddy legs plod, shoulders ache
and bow before worn leather straps
that sag between his bull and his beliefs.

Bent in the knowing that gray
becomes green and sweat waters
ground into overflowing, he grows
dark patches of glove on his palms.

After supper, his thick hands reach
to caress flour from her cheek,
slide gently along the softness
there, coffee brewing on the stove.

Danny Earl Simmons is an Oregonian who has loved living in the Mid-Willamette Valley for over 30 years. He is a friend of the Linn-Benton Community College Poetry Club and an active member of the Albany Civic Theater. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in various journals such as Avatar Review, Boston Literary Magazine, Toe Good Poetry, and Pirene’s Fountain. His published poems can be found on his blog, .