Paul let his hammer sing
through the air and crash
on two small plastic toys
that broke previously
under his boots
because he did not bother
to carry a flashlight
on this well known patch
of woods and rocks
last night after dark,
returning from watching
a cormorant at dusk
out of place
on a beaver pond
on the stream
carrying snow melt
down the unvisited
mountain top.
Paul’s dog flinched
each time the hammer struck
and little pieces flew
in all directions
for Paul to vent is rage
at turning his ankle
a deep blue-black
and swollen
after sidestepping
other might-be toys
and landing on
a tree root wrong.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 