Roof to Roof

You’re off again, leaping from roof to roof,
and I in your wake, sweating. What’s joy

to you is labor for me, and then, I’m afraid
to look down, worried about the tap-tap-tapping

of woodpeckers at the siding, or the drone
of wasps around their bulbous nest. We pause

by the eaves; you offer me a hammer and a glass
of wine. We trade eyes, and I see storm clouds

as they gather strength over the Dakotas. What
you see I can only guess, but it’s making you

laugh, making you float into the upper branches
of cottonwoods, your mouth filled with the flavor

of this day. Already you’ve made it crazier
than most. Only morning, but the seams have

ripped in this bag where we stuff the past.
We ride toward the future on the shadows of wings.

Steve Klepetar

If you have any comments on this poem, Steve Klepetar would be pleased to hear from you.