Memorial Day
Cedarville, Route 29, we drive
these country roads reckless
as late spring, stopping
where farm folks sell iris cheap
in extravagant colors – Redwing,
Tollgate, Lavender Exchange –
from fields like the ones
our young dogs love to run.
Triangle Crossroads, Hayfork
Junction. We stuff the trunk
with bags of hunched brown hope.
Back home, tubers dig down
to where we’ve planted
the old dogs,
the ones who used to come
when bidden, and now,
as if commanded, stay.
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