Contentment

Boots pendulum across dry hills
kicking up intermittent static
from disturbed grasshoppers

The tang of bar oil hangs
in the still air, blending
with vanilla rising from 
sun-roasted Ponderosas

Leaning into a tangle of
slashed pine I am surrounded
by Christmas. Sap
smears sticky across my arm
each toss of limbs
brings a fresh whiff

Burring chainsaws drown
speech; unnecessary anyway

Later, chunks of peaches
and pineapple soothe parched
throats. One uncle always
brings cookies. Another
has the beer. Every time mom
suggests pot pie
and serves sandwiches

Plastic forks scrape
heavy paper plates while
our outside life is shared
between tasks. Cousins, returned
update each other on career
changes and impending babies

Drenched in sun-raised sweat
filthy with labor
arms sketched with scratches
torn jeans and tattered shirt
I can think of nowhere else
I’d rather be