PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was mid-September. A late-nite thunderstorm had left the air dewy and fragrant and the yard sparkled in the dawn's early light. I was just finishing my morning practice when I heard my dog barking at the gate. I stuck my head out the door to see a tall tan Navajo man kneeling down to pet my little fluffy white dog who sat in rapt attention at his feet. "Wow you must be pretty special - she hates everyone but me." He stood up, his smooth bronze chest glowing in the sun, his faded Levi's slung low on his hips like a denim crescent moon cradling his bellybutton, his bare feet were perfectly formed, oddly free of wear-n-tear. He held up a long axe, "I'm here to chop your wood." "Ok?" I mumbled, mystified by this mysterious stranger. He walked directly to the woodpile and chopped chopped chopped for 3 hours straight never breaking a sweat. The muscles of his arms rippled as he brought the axe down cleaving each piece of wood cleanly with one stroke. His glossy black hair, braided and wrapped with a strip of red cloth, hung in a thick rope down between his shoulderblades. He said nothing and focused on his work while I watched him from a lawn chair in the shade, sipping lemonade and wondering Where the hell did this gorgeous guy come from? He threw the last piece of wood on the pile and made a neat little stack of kindling. He laid the long axe over his shoulder and handed me a raven feather, "I'll bring you more wood next week." "Uh thanks" I said gratefully, "Can't wait!" He sauntered out the gate down the dirt track that was my driveway, broad back glistening, blue jeans hugging his... ahhhhh...