The Little Images

from The Catalogue of Missing

.
The Little Images

are harvested first.
The way your arms moved 
hands held a book.  No, even smaller 
your soft glance as I walked past
slight creak of chair 
as you settled.  

Tiny charms
containing all the brightness of sky
as apricot greys 
to a darkening guard
seams day to dusk.
  
held for this hour 

The neighbor’s plow
chugs from the field 
ticks-cool in his barn
as bits of straw catch 
angled strands of light
                  float
softly rest.