Sometimes they defeat me
These eighty acres, more or less

Waist-high weeds, box elders sprawling
Snappers in the pond, chipmunks in the sheds

Brush to clip, chop, saw, haul
Too much grown these seventeen years

Rocks to move, holes to fill
Grapevines darken, no longer a view

Can't start the tractor
A nest tops the sickle bar

Then there are the good days, the land a welcome sight
For me, and more than me

An otter emerges from cattails and ice
Then rolls over snowbank away

Mergansers, teal, wood duck, heron circle and settle
ID'd by color, shape, or call

Hollyhocks unfurl while I sit near
Brushes in hand, canvas filling

Old setter and aging cat lie curled
Black spots in blue-gray shade