by Kurtis Ebeling
in the heavy summer swaths
of light and air
under the limbs of a crabapple
tree shadows stretch
and bloom against grass
with small white flowers
as chickens tiptoe
bob their necks and cluck
quietly along the taller
weeds—growing into
a fence of greening
wood and thin wire
—to peck at the soft flesh
of rotting fruit sweltering
in the sweet summer air
Kurtis Ebeling is a writer and educator living in Spokane, Washington, and a founding coeditor for Croak. His poetry has been published with Art of Nothing Press, Wild Roof Journal, The Dewdrop, Big Table Press, and others. He also has forthcoming poetry at Crab Creek Review.