Wegmar, Late Summer
We’ve moved the bird feeder
metres further from the scrub cedar,
whence too often launched the chipmunk,
outstealing the jay, the grackle even.
On a new ladder (aluminum) we reach
to fill the plenum (two margarine tubsworth)
and see in a day the seed subside and deeper
carpet its mezzanine
this year re-varathened.
Summer’s wane allows a fire at night
of applewood and carpenter’s ends,
made warmer by a heft of birch
from the last beneath the porch.
Mid September and the halvèd moon
is west, steelwoolenwisped.
The lake assuages weaving shale, and settles granite.
Immediate, flung stars jostle, partnering
in a recessive heaven
athwart the foursquare ends of earth.