June green began. A fateful spin ushered sun
in, clouds out, a real breeze. After breakfast,
belly full,
I lopped young limbs, suckers, off the sweet gum
trunk. At stops I sniffed each leaf to make it last,
a beautiful

pull to soft attention. I paced my humble yards,
declared martial law on dandelions, an ugly scene.
From the garage
I lugged a ladder to the whelming gutters, needing,
for too, too long, a thorough rooting, a cleaning.
Unseen,

until I saw, a landscape light had made itself askew,
maybe knocked by the rotted branch in the fescue.
Or, the brindled
rabbit, canny, did it, who has burrowed warrens
like train-tracks underneath our deck. Again,
my day is swindled.

- M. Carriger