Monday, July 4, 2016

The Clothes


When by the sounds of grained grass
you know a bird is near, a rabbit
keeps tamped his passage --
a public house of clothes at hand
vesting any animal -- then beings
are conveyed most poignantly,
their bodies, the letters of agility
pronounced in freedom.

Cloaking peripheries tune
the inhabitants, when a year and two
a property has time to grow in silence,
untouched from when it was last mowed.
Snakes, rabbits, mice and shrews, weigh days
since sound's recession, and begin to seek
the mantling grass; weeds into wood-spine bushes,
schedule of maintenance having passed.

Burrows of happenstance, woven homes of leaves
relay for their quiet occupation
invitations: cupped as squirrels in old roots
are ground eggs safe that hatchlings shake.
Inland ease when chipmunks scatter hulls, or tree-cling
for a three-sixty shield. Even in flora's want
orange butterflies at mating games
are dressed in their own twining air-spiral.

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