CHIPPAWAS

The acrid smell of battle

in the disturbed ground:

Turkey Mullein vs. Vinegarweed

claiming more territory

to choke out grasses—

that knee-high cling and tell

where you’ve been

and your approach to life.

After a good wet spring,

I smell my father here,

twenty-five years

after his departure

and remember

his lace-up Chippawas

busting clods behind a plow.