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).