volume 14 number 2
by Charles Springer
Now I open on my own, like he did with his father gone.
Defining the perimeter begins where access road ends –
up onto the head of pasture never to go bald.
Cutting bar no sharper than my total vision. Watch
for life dozed off in clover, watch for stones too big to miss, watch
for buzzards eying something dead I soon catch whiff of, something
I don't see and never will. Must keep going,
ducking here and jutting there the limbs that reach out from the tree line
just to knock off my cap, make me stop,
jump down to pick it up, get my feet wet.