In terrifying
thorny cases thistle grows
with purple spring blooms
and great patches no
sweat or toil brings to bear.
The sight of ivy
and sumac recalls
the itch on my arms. Ancient
hedera pollutes
water, animals
no longer drink or embrace
with impunity.
Doused for fall pollen
like dough cakes the cars and red
berries fill nameless
birds that paint tawny
canvas Pollock red splotches.
We prepare for frost,
plant chrysanthemums,
patch the barn, lay fresh bedding
of straw for the goat.
We prop the door with
a kitchen chair covered by
a trash bag. Dogs cooped
up for too long lie
outside for the storm, their smell
rises from downstairs
mixed with sweet hay and
horses covered in burrs and
malt before dinner.

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