a long line of maize bursts its silk,
bronzing in the monster heat. Awaiting its takedown,
the corn draws a wild dream.
You cock your gun and shoot the fox, knowing your place.
A neighboring meadow, inflamed with rapeseed conjures
butterflies, who enter the combine. Nothing comes out
the same. At dusk, you bumble with the shovel, knocking on bushes
to scare up the small snake who entered the coop. I watch
it slip beneath a crack in the trim
while you’re turned away. I’m always unsure of who I’ve betrayed,
and the dangers I feed by those I have “saved.”