Hard to have morning serenity
with other life forms about the place.
The cat licks his paws after
devouring a gopher outside the door.
Bits and parts left on the mat.
Other people praise this killing,
a zero tolerance for anything
that undermines their real estate.
Our yard is built on the lacy
remains where gophers have been.
One day it will collapse, the house
crumbling down to who knows where.
They say the small things rule the earth.
Gophers are mocking the folly of my life
with its shaky foundation,
an over‑priced mortgage on a house
with too many things I don’t know how
The gopher’s blood dries on the deck,
it does nothing to make me feel