Talking words
Talking to talk,
To hear ourselves.
Nothing important mind you,
Nothing said that
Couldn’t be finished another time;
Father and son,
Passing between
Old hollow trees,
Wide as barrels
Still holding golden green
Apples to the sun.
We were pleasantly
Surprised
By how warm it was too.
It was an unseasonable warmth,
Lush, generous,
Hugging us to our surroundings,
Sustaining us
Like two fish in a pond
Where one fish
Might comment to the other fish
About how warm the water is
And the other fish might concur
Or just smile. . .
But in any case,
They swim on, side by side,
Coming up through the orchard
Talking words.