by Carter Norman
infant shadows sip shade
from small, leafy silhouettes
the earthen molt sends up its fertile scent
like a dog in heat, signaling the rain
wake-makers plow summer snow
divining rods bend toward fish
dusk brings the short winding calls of pond frogs
and loons
singing like jazz flutes
a suicidal leaf jumps
and falls upon a mass grave
as chimneys
grow long beards of smoke
winter seeps through clothes like ice water
pipes burst in a crawl space
a starting car groans like a sick animal
and pregnant seeds shiver in the long, subterranean night
WILLOWS WEPT REVIEW 