Almost [unfinished]

-

ALMOST


It is on the other end of all there is 

to say that the All there is feels safe

 

enough in the silence to peek out 

from the brush pile and look around. 


It has eaten the peanut butter sandwiches 

from all our traps and stepped nimbly 


over the trigger plates. Regardless 

how we fortified the coop it has made


away with our attempts at domestication, 

left feathers like breadcrumbs for us 


to follow as they scuttle across

the field. For all we know it has tunneled


beneath the house’s foundation 

itself, making porous the packed clay


of our permanence. It seems, 

increasingly, that we will have to be content


to coexist in glimpses of each other...


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