The beef stay slaughtered

In hosed-down houses.

Mouses are caught in snap traps.

Apples drop from the forgotten orchard.


I sit stripping peas

From their green pockets,

Dropping the beads of green

Into buckets.


As luck would have it,

The rabbits ravaged this year’s lettuce.

Other than that, the garden fed us.

Best not complain of all this weather.

Better rain, than a spell of dry.


I imagine that, when

The doe has fallen,

Its fawn is choked by an anguished cry.


[From the Maine series]

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