Simple & Ruinous Hunger

In the air this morning
a fog lingered
a few feet above the ground.

Droplets congregated
on the window
over the deck.

The mountain lion
blended into the wildflowers
and fog—or mist.

I might have missed it
if not for the goat
it carried through the yard.

At the next count,
my neighbor will recognize
the vacancy in his pasture.

Unless I inform him
that the mountain lion
took his goat

and ate it behind my toolshed
where the tarp extends past
two cords of firewood.

Though I knew,
once my neighbor knew,
he would lay in wait

and some near morning
I would hear the report
of his rifle.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Head Turning

In the yard next door
a bucket of frogs croak
unable to bump
the blue plate set atop it
as a lid.

My neighbor
wishes them good and hungry
when evening arrives
with its mosquitos
that breed in the little pond
with red and gold koi.

If my stone wall
were any taller
I would know none of this
from our conversation
as I trim the lilac bush
so the sunflowers
catch the late rays.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney