quatrains

– Robert L. Temple

too warm to skid the timbered logs –
too late to plant a crop — though fields
seemed ready — went to town — the dogs
came too — they found a fight — we wheeled

fast out of there — one dog is wolf
– half wolf — so he’s against the law –
back home we waded through a gulf
of empty time — old beams to saw

to planks — more pans and pens to clean –
more wood to split — still weeds that grow
where winter ought to have what’s green
chilled brown and tucked away in snow.