Can you see against
the rows of narrow houses
ghosts of helpless trees?
And ghosts of fences,
rusty wire stretched between leaning posts
an imperfect trellis
to rampant blackberries,
There is the tall white barn,
and the two short ponies
that leaned across the wire
for sugar and carrots.
Haunted, too, by Punky and Laddie,
the old couple, with names
like ponies, who tilled
their garden, slow,
one short row at a time,
while their flock
scratches and plunders
at least one seed each
of corn and squash.
But then they vanish
trees, fence, barn, pony
old woman, old man.
No more weeds to pluck.
No more hens to shoo.
02/20/08, rev 04/09/08, rev june 08, rev 080908
Received 5th Honorable Mention in the
Oregon State Poetry Association's Fall 2008 Contest
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