Make Do with What You Have

Make Do with What You Have

The crow looks rusty as he rises up.
Bright is the malice in his eye . . .

One joins him there for company,
But at a distance, in another tree.

                             

—from “No Possum, No Sop, No Taters,”

                                 Wallace Stevens     

The crow keeps his distance here

this morning of early Spring. 

We have no possums this far north.

The taters we store want to sprout.

As for rust, our nails are galvanized.

Most of my malice I direct to squirrels

who raid bird feeders despite corn cobs

I offer and ingenious devices designed

to keep them at bay.  Winter gasps

its last breath.  The first deciduous leaf

has yet to appear, but somewhere

beneath departing snow a crocus waits. 

I seek its blessing that for me

heralds the real new year.

                              —Donnell Hunter

                                       13 March 2012