Now is here!
Upon the strand,
I battle muck
For the right to stand
Amongst reeds.
The snake beds –
The spider’s threads –
And the fallen willow seeds.

Egret’s caw –
The deep’s slow swell

Back again –
For nature’s sin,
And heavy handed
With an ashen tin.
Sing a song
For the sower,
For the slayer
Of water moccasins.

Sickle saw –
And sawdust smell.

Now is there.
Empty vessel –
Dust and shade
Sweep through the thistle.
Beleaguered by
The stratus gray –
And with this day,
A meager sigh:

Law is law –
Let all go well!