The Operator’s Daughter
Sometimes a moment opens in her mind and
she is little when winter comes her
father puts storm windows up where summer screens
once were at the bottom of the frame
a wooden flap seals off three ventilation holes
and in the morning she pushes up the window to
lift the flap and press her nose
against the holes and breathe
cold winter air that smells (she
knows) of ozone she
holds her hands up to
the patterns of thick frost upon the glass
and melts small handprints there thenscrapes
frost off with fingernails to
place upon her tongue
andtaste
the winter melting in her mouth
~ Terrance Millet 2020
The Painter’s Grandson
~ for Jack Bowman, Carmel, California, 1978
Every morning the old man takes
the boy by the hand and waters the flowers takes
a dozen trips with the watering can and the boy
never tires of it the
water rushes out of the long spout the boy laughs
as it soaks the leaves and
he never lets go of the old man’s hand sometimes
the sun lights them up as they walk back and forth
from the gallery
to the flower box on Dolores street the
courtyard is bright as they move through the light sometimes
it is foggy in Carmel and the courtyard is hushed
with the glow of the fog and then
the man talks to the boy in whispers
and the boy murmurs back in the hushed landscape
~ Terrance Millet 2020