Missed call -- 4:13pm edit 1 (rewrite of Just for a night)

[71degrees]

Tractor diesel and mowed alfalfa bring her to the edge
of the field sprinkled with fresh bales. She stands small,
surveying with daddy, hand enveloped by his.

For a month she's dreamed in circles: a FedEx bullet
freefalls through wispy noontime clouds at a million
miles per slow motion minute. She stands large,
appraising with daddy. The plane hits the hay,
soundlessly flashing gold and crimson. He chuckles
at the tidy carnage, gifts littering the field.

4:38 she wakes up most mornings, eyes still filled
with his checkered shirt, worn down smile,
and heart still unattacked.

To feel his tanned farmer’s hands wrapped
around his mug she reenacts
his mornings. Coffee, milk, let out the chickens,
then head off to daily duty.

Once an hour she shuts down slurred urges
to stare at her phone-- the call she didn’t pick up,
red polish not yet dry.



(some edits made since posting)
original poem/thread here: http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/showthread.php?tid=13367

I watch the evolution of your poems (through rewrites/edits) and observe you are a poet who makes the most out of critiques. I'm just in here to tell you this is hitting the "wow" stage. Keep it up. LOVE THE TITLE.