On Sundays too he would rise before dawn
and brew a pot of coffee over the fire,
then call the dogs with a backwards yawn
before packing up decoys, weights and wire
in a wicker backpack and two homemade hods.
I’d wait until I could not see my breath–
The sunrise over the lake he said was God’s
own reassurance in divine faith.
So he and I would watch it dissipate,
lying in wait for a chance to imitate
the mellow rasp or nasal hailing call
in ruffled light behind the deadfall
and under the waning eye of Orion
the dog’s Hup our command bird on, bird on.
Out of the barn a woman came
and moments later came a man,
the length of a ladder between them–
A rung for every year
they’ve cleaned the gutter’s together.
K. A. Markee is a Maine native living on the coast where he is raising five children. He is a graduate of the Stonecoast MFA writers Program and current president of the Stonecoast Alumni Association. He has numerous poems published in journals including From East to West, Cider Press Review, Oleander Review, SNReview and many others.