He’s already gone
when you get up, made
the coffee and had
his first cup –a milk
carton still out by
the pot he left on
for you and your Mom

who’s sleeping in. Where’s
he off to? No need
for years now without
any cows to get
up so long before
the sun, before birds
have begun their songs.

And this late summer
morning he’s not got
to trek to the job
in town. He’s on –cheer
here– vacation! Is
his pole still stored in
the stairwell? He may

be waiting along
the bank for a bite.
Or maybe just for
first light. If your own
eyes are rising toward
it like fish, his, with
the farmer he used

to be still behind,
must take it like cream.
When he gets back in,
check his eyes and see
whether their coffee
colour contains dream
or remembering.