One Day Closer Every Day

One Day Closer Every Day

Sheep droop jaw and hooves split in the stumble for the hay,
the new order of things, picking at the stubble and crust
Knees buckle, for what they’re worth and their eyes look around
and absorb what was mud and is now unsullied bright red dust

The Sweet Sweet Sound

The Sweet Sweet Sound

There’s a sweet sweet sound moving across the settled ground
it whispers in my ear in the morning
like a solitary breeze that whistles through the trees
and summons all the birds to cease their yawning

What Are We Made Of?

What Are We Made Of?

What are we made of? asks the child who cries
who just wants a toy she can play with
or to ask most politely before she dies
“is there someone out there I can stay with.”