Gladness

by Bryan Snyder

Oftentimes off-hand across the gray
Of gloom a memory of a summer day
Inside our country produce stand unwinds,
A day that rhymes with all the days before

Till through the door a lady, gently clad
And stoutly built, her smile softly glad,
Comes with a gentleness that deeply soothes.
It smooths my landscape, breathes a breath of rain.

From my domain of desert I remark
Her sure selection and her brisk embark.
She only smiles, she never says a word,
Somehow stirred, I help her to the car.

Her arms with various vegetables are piled,
She coaxes slow her door, her crooked smile
And fingers stubborn as a baby’s fist,
Her chin comes into play, her elbow prods.

The door absconds and pivots toward the jamb,
She tilts to mitigate or stall the slam
And now unbalancing her loaded arms,
Apples dance, the cabbage finds her toes.

And slow and unpresaged, her laughter breaks.
It pools and turns parched fissures into lakes.
My canyons rush and echo with a shout
That calls myself out of my self-made drought.

Bryan is excited to meet God while he wanders through God’s creation or our smaller creations.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy