Rows of Clover

Rows of clover cover up

A season's worth of wasted dirt

Rye will tie the doe to fear

The ring of cedars standing there

Buckshot barrel, steady hands

Plunder through the flattened land

Barrels burn to ashes all

The baskets stockpiled in the hall

It ain't the easy

Kind of healing—

When you're down on your knees

Clawing at the garden

Past heirs draw the master plot

Red Wings in the pasture rot

Axes, taxes, mark and bind

Yield is rich with yellow pine

Bow beside the granite mound

At your heels, the steadfast hound

Crawl to cracks where the light gets through—

Warm and golden, absolute

It ain't the easy

Kind of healing—

When you're down on your knees

Clawing at the garden