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?