on trees on fence posts on telephone timber
at the entrance to access roads
because admit it
you are scheming right now this very
as these words gather and guide
how to trespass how to elbow crawl under their
barbed wire hop their
electric tape barriers beat their
motion-triggered fast-acting thousand lumen
slink past their strategically placed active
infrared night-vision
studying when their
gate opens when they leave for work
for grocery runs for naps
in bivouac hammocks
learning from the ways of the black morph
squirrel who catapults bough to bough
over their property line into their
maple stands oak stands hickory
blueberry patch bendy willows
studying the ways of
the emerald ash borer Agrilus planipennis
whose larvae tunnel until until
they make it unnoticed to the other side
Jeff Schiff
Jeff Schiff is the author of That hum to go by, Mixed Diction, Burro Heart, The Rats of Patzcuaro, The Homily of Infinitude, and Anywhere in this Country. Hundreds of his poems, essays, recordings, and photographs have appeared in more than 150 publications worldwide. He teaches at Columbia College Chicago.
Awesome poem! What a knack for naturally poetic vernacular!
I’ll be saying, blueberry, patch bendy willows all day!