Succession
In the natural world, one thing always leads to another.
Here is where the mower halted after felling the tall grass
and revealing the rabbits’ hiding place, forcing them
into flight in sight of hawks overhead, birds whose long,
low whistle always sent the chickens into a panic.
My brother and I watched them scatter, clucking and fussing,
abandoning for a moment their pursuit of glossy June beetles.
Here we watched as the great machine spit out blocks
of dry Timothy, formed and trussed into stackable shapes
that would fit into the storage shed, making them rough
to play on and also treacherous, as they created a home
for snakes that moved in to feast on the mice who love
to nest in hay, nibbling straw that still smells of sunshine.
Sherry Poff grew up in the hills of West Virginia. She now lives and writes in and around Chattanooga, Tennessee, where she interacts with a large group of students and family members. Sherry holds an MA in Writing from the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga and is a member of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. Her stories and poems have appeared recently inClayjar Review, Anthology of Appalachian Writers, Heart of Flesh, andPine Mountain Sand and Gravel.
