A circle of yelps
And a bleating center
Rising at 4 AM
Outnumbered by stars
And spruce deep
Stirs a lying dog
Fitful of
Its quarry corner
The lamb remains
A well-fed spring
Inside a farmer's ken
Ending beneath
Another’s table
Parted from sounds
Of a late-wood summer
Night famished ribs
Crush
For marrow
Unseasoned
Making meal
Of the morning
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment