Mostly in the open Charlie’s work
went on rain and shine along hillsides
the lay of the land back and forth
only headed in for maintenance repairs
where Evaleen would likely visit him
in the barn bring her sewing sandwiches
sit by him chat if he felt like or be still
mend socks half a day while he figured
how to adjust the chain drive then
time the whirling combine head
where the manual was none too clear
and on the phone the dealer only said
bring it in if Bud’s not too jammed
at a hundred an hour he’ll maybe have a look
but remember we close right at six
so clearly stuck with fixing it himself
Charlie would open up to her eventually
explain how he thought the stupid thing
was meant to work and what he thought
should be adjusted round and round
till something in them both would yawn
at the lateness of the hour share a laugh
that finally let in light enough
to fix the cranky thing or blow a fuse
and let the sudden darkness rescue them
Paul Hunter
This and twenty-some others grew out of a long poem about shy country people finding love, a piece called “Luminaries” that first appeared in his third farming book called “Come the Harvest” (Silverfish Review Press, 2008).