Slow to Hide


The smell of cherry tomatoes outside, and

the blistering heat of a June early evening

sets in when storm shadows cross over the

purple martin houses down by the creekbed.

The red of the tomatoes slides to pink from

the pressure, and the deer slow to hide in

the treeline have apples to eat that I put

there this morning. The barn cat is nowhere

to be seen, and if she was, the deer would

be further back in the woods. Strange how

animals too can't get along. The cat owns

the backyard one night. The deer have it

the next, but they seem resigned to this

equal exchange. I don't know the cause,

though it exists throughout nature. We all

borrow air. We all share this land.