Quatrains
Cooper Esteban

I saw her at the wellhouse.
The bucket and chain.
Tumbled out of eyeing.
So much her abandon.

That evening in the kitchen.
Cool fingertips.
Tensilely bathing.
An unpeeled grape.

The heron in the shallows.
The hawk in the elm.
See everything but do not know
The tendons of her palms.

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