The night sky woke up all the stars-
like our own corner of my
grandfather’s American flag,
As the vast cornfield glowed softly
just quietly content on growin’ as
the air stuck to our faces
like a wet dishrag we call July.
We sat on the farmer’s porch
with my tattered jeans dangling
off the crumbling wooden planks for steps
and you asked me what art was. //
I chewed my lower lip as
You drew a heart in the dirt crumbs
left behind from our day’s adventure
from your dusty old boots.
The corners of my mouth moved
I turned to look into your eyes
and held your hand over my heartbeat
Just for a moment and then-
Tugged your hand into mine
to help you stand & slow dance with me,
While I pressed my heartbeat to yours
and shuffled my feet awkwardly.
I threw my head back and laughed
As you looked me so curiously
So I leaned in a bit closer and
brushed your hair the color of wet sand
out of your twinkling eyes
and crinkled my nose
and whispered in your ear,
“You, me and the chickens, that’s what-
It’s the sound of your old truck on the path,
the swish of the paintbrush on the fence,
and the moment a chick opens
her eyes for the very first time-
Art is everything. Art is everywhere,
Art… is this” // as I tugged you closer for a kiss.
A beautiful poem, Gretchen. Enchanting.