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turkey vulture dares

electrified wire fence

to shake this field aback,

once again with reaction

its comrades weave

the shroud of death overhead

the clouds timid

on the horizon

it’s always like this

the affront to the nose

the hum near

a chaos of blackberry bush

or the field buzzing

with the cold examination

by a noon sun

it’s always like this

the wind raising

a needle and thread

for careful fittings of

these new shapes

the fenceposts,

lupine, worn loosely

on the decay

it’s always like this

the passing of the afternoon

looking eagerly the other way

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Glenn Reed

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