Guise

This entry is part 86 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

That gobbling on the ridge:
turkey, or turkey hunter?
That whistle: factory or train?

I follow a vole’s progress
by watching where the grass trembles—
until a breeze springs up.

How the weasel must hate the wind!
And how it must strive to sound
exactly like it.

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