At The Counter
This was her fourth time in six weeks
at my counter, and she was buying again.
She stood before me, neat and petite,
but her body looked bent in ways it shouldn’t.
I sensed she had other problems
but didn’t want to look for what I might find.
Writing a check was not easy for her,
with an awkward hand, but not misshapen
as the other she held against her side.
I watched the slow crawl of words
that she willed into shape and proper place.
All the while, we bantered back and forth
about her small car and the large objects
she knew she and I, miracle workers,
could and would fit inside. So we did it,
and stood by her car, and laughed together,
and liked each other deeper than our words.
Young Girl In Boat
Like an oil painting from my past
you are sitting in the stern
back against the rail
one hand trailing
in the water
your young eyes
discovering the sky
Dennis Herrell has been writing poetry for forty years during his adult life as teacher, outside sales person, and antique dealer. He is like every poet in the world – always in training, and painfully aware of it. http://www.dennisherrell.com/