And the fear about what
Lies ahead,
I walk outside to look around,
The hinges on the paddock gate
Are rusty, and two old goats
Are waiting for their apples
In the lean summer's end,
Yet one that brought some bounty,
Butterfly bushes and bee balm still
Making presence known in the early
Dimming twilight of approaching fall,
A few coral flowers on the trumpet vine.
I'll fix some dinner and think about
What is coming on this winter,
I'll worry about friends on
Northern plains, and fret about the
Dying animals and loss of species,
About injustice and
The heartlessness that
Too often eats the souls of those
Who live among us,
I'll pray because it helps and
Makes me feel better.
Time to start the evening meal,
Chop garlic from the garden
Into fine and sticky slivers
To sautée with onion, and
Then decide, as I'm going along,
What's next, because this is
The way I've always done it.
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