No Steps
The young bull dropped his head and stared.
Only a wispy wire — electrified — kept us
apart. That, and two long rows of asparagus.
An ancient apple tree
blossomed prodigally pink and white.
The muddy path sucked at my shoe,
but I reached the granite step, and knocked
at the rickety porch door.
Deep in the house a dog began to bark.
I had prepared my Heart Fund speech,
and the first word — When — was on my tongue.