Poetry

On a Day of Power-line Maintenance

Notified duly—of course, as was their duty. No excuses—I’d forgotten, of course. So, this morning: … Off.                                          The radio mid-word, The fridge slurred and shuddered. There were trees blowing about outside, Magpies among the split and bowing crowns, Crows farther off. And farther off. As if air off snow had chilled all about This house was fresh, scoured. Now I could hear its little noises, Murmurings, this only child talking to itself, And thought how like those of the body When the hours are a country hard under moonlight, We like a small animal in hiding, listen. We, strangers…

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