harvest

is it weakness or strength
that forces you from me?

left fallow,
my eastern view
gone to seed, cut, baled,
and hauled out of my sight

while black calves
crowd under low
trees, uneasy respite,

bones that once ached
under a snow moon
could use a little northern rain,

a frenzied conscience, bits of paper,
incessant words,
but I'll miss another eclipse,

giving less effort to
what might have mattered,

the battle of
diminishing returns