— Christine Van Winkle
The rabbits on the lawn keep me inside,
Every time I walk out, hind-paw rustles are
harbingers of something,
We don’t know what, or how many years new they are.
They can’t speak, the neutered cat stalks their two-acre trail
Behind the screen that we erected to hold off the cavalry of
The spiders are our second line of defense.
I don’t understand their night,
until their minds turn diurnal, verbal,
I lock all the doors and un-snuff the lights.