And Now a Couple of Words from a White Picket Fence:

by Gillian Pasley | Poetry | Spring 2018

Photo by Lydia Moran

How now, brown cow, how
red the heavens streak at dawn how 
shrill and warbled the rooster’s morning cackle how 
the whole Earth now seems to vociferate in 
anticipation of another morning broken.

How greener the pastures on each side from the last how
sweet a whiff of sunshine through the trees how
soft the fleece how fat the sow how 
each day seems to slip through the slats 
until the crickets peep and it’s moonlight on the

How black the night, how grave the vow, how 
can you blame me, I mean really how—
can you possibly blame me, how one dark evening 
fate stole through the slits while I slept still—
some old evil spirit, here to turn a good thing bad.

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