I have a reason to
be about
inside this beastly hour
scrubbing the moony
fields for
lambs.
a mule braying
at distance.
Mars two handbreadths
away from
a waning full moon.
shadows full as noon.
Young toms
touching whisker
trading sniffs
of where they’ve been.
neighbors a mile away
security lights ablaze.
stars even farther.
I listen for a ewe’s
faint chuckle,
for a lamb’s quivery birthbleat.
the moon points to nothing.
I am up for the nothing.
the shepherd’s chore of declaring
nothing new tonight–
done.
Nothing.
Done.