We’re digging out rocks–my three-year-old son and I–
from the bed by the house where we’ll plant impatiens.
We toss the rocks into a wheelbarrow, his hands
still plump and smooth, and together we rumble it deep
into the woods behind our house. Now we roll it back
empty, spirits high, sun warming our bare legs.
In years to come, other scenes will play out–his troubles,
mine–and for a time, a grey silence will settle
like a cloud between us. But today, we’re a team.
Back to our digging, he crouches so near I inhale the scent
of fresh sweat that glistens like mica at his temples.
A May Morning
Dannye Romine Powell’s fifth collection, “In the Sunroom with Raymond Carver,” won the 2020 Roanoke-Chowan Award for the best book of poetry by a North Carolinian published that year. She’s received fellowships from the NEA, the NC Arts Council and Yaddo.