Landscape ~ Robin Chapman



What’s native? This stretch of yard once marsh

fringed by tall-grass prairie, fire-swept, drained

to re-emerge in cherry, hickory, oak all felled

for lumber, fallow in winter, tilled to cornfield

fringing the edge of town—come house, grass,

elms, honeysuckle border creeping in—now

we machete-slash the stems of indigo, beebalm,

asters and goldenrod for slow compost, clear

so that the tender crocus, scilla, and daffodils

will lift their faces through leaf drift to the early

bees and each of us weary of winter sleep.