We harvested last of the winter greens today.
Lacinato kale and collards that fed us through the cold months,
gone to seed now with little yellow flowers Carol adds to a bouquet of lilac.
I pull all the stalks out of the ground,
throw them over the fence into the neighbor’s pasture.
Add mushroom compost, chicken manure, turn the soil under.
Ready to plant again.
In the northeast corner of his property our Buddhist neighbor is
standing with his back to us,
following his breath while his lanky wife from the Bronx
leans a ladder against the second story of the house.
All at once we see an osprey fly up from the river gorge,
fingerlings of salmon alive in her talons
and everyone pointing to the sky between us!
Late that night I go outside to urinate.
See a cloud the shape and color of a plucked chicken
laying on its side in a blue porcelain bowl.
The new moon is its half opened eye.