Love Poem

The sail is so vast when it's laid out on the driveway.

I stake it with a screwdriver through the shackle

at the tack to stretch it smooth,

pulling on the head and clew. Now it's smooth

as a night's worth of new snow.

My wife, my partner, has been torn from her busy day.

We face each other across the sail's foot

and with my right hand and her left hand

(I'm right handed, she's left handed)

we pull an arm's length of the sail

down over itself, then do this again,

keeping my left hand, and her right hand, towards the foot.

Each fold is easier since the sail grows narrower

near the top. Then we fold towards each other

and I wrap my arms around it, while she holds the bag's mouth open,

the gray bag that will cover it through the winter.

Then I thank her. And the driveway is visible again

as it is in spring, when all the snow has melted.