Afterthought

i

Lifting her foot,

craning her neck—the woman

holding the eggs.

ii

Little off balance—

the woman by the chook run

pondering her sole.

iii

Scraping away—

the woman beside the hens,

scratching away.

iv

As if moon-walking—

the woman holding the wire

of the chicken coop.

Sheep

Only three days since

they were shorn and already

their whiteness is gone.

Still, who of us has managed

even that long in this world?