Always a hole in the law,
in the black sky where the March moon
bores into your mind,
along the borders
between you and Nature
tirelessly encroaching.
She lives in town, the nurse
taking my blood pressure,
wants to know about the moths
driving her inside the house
with her kids
on the block of last night’s shooting.
I can’t imagine trying to sleep in a city.
First 80-degree day,
surrounded by colorful pastures
of wildflowers, thigh-high,
we can feel the snakes
crawling out of hibernation—
even the dogs are cautious,
as they check last year’s beds
dug in the shade of the deck.
The ebb and flow of skirmishes,
prey and predator, man and beast
until the end of time.
drycrikjournal 