Gorrill's Orchard - Jeanne E. Clark
There is a special enjoyment that comes with reading the poetry of poets I know, and this book was no exception.
A small sample:
WATCHING HER SWIM
Were she mine I would call her Petunia,
a girl entering the creek's clear chill one
eager step at a time. Her grasp,
arms high over her head, then settling
on the water like sunlight. Her gap-toothed smile,
too large for her face and too
small for her joy as she moves farther out,
her hands and arms sweeping like a strong broom.
Then stopping she calls back:
The water here is warm. Oh, come in everyone!
And for a moment my fallow heart wades out.