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20 Acres

by Allen Taylor


I'm Allen Taylor. I returned from Iraq in December 2005. In February 2006, my grandchildren, Dylan and Savannyah, came to live with me and my wife at our home in South Central Pennsylvania. I wrote this poem that month. It was published in the summer 2006 in the Hanover Pa. Poet Laureate's (Dana Sauers) column titled "My Letter To The World" in the Hanover Evening Sun,.

    My grandson likes to play in the snow. He doesn’t know I have a book To write, so he walks Like Sunday all over this old farm Chasing the creek, searching For Lewis or Clark, plops down To make a body print, tosses handfuls Of himself in the air like confetti. I guess I let myself forget What it was to be three, to be Concerned with now more than What could be. I stick to the old white Fence as if protecting thoughts, Wait on the future while words Go neglected. Through the fog and sunlight I hear “Poppy! Poppy!” but my mind Has wandered so far and this poem Has reached its end because even though There are no tears I’ve run out of metaphors.




















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