Potencies

Earth, sun-plowed, rain-swept, trembles
at seed stir, thrust of root and foot,
summer sweats in birth and growth,
I in overalls as judge’s robes sentence
tares from wheat, weevils from bins,
rats from stored boxes but the
judgment word is final. Behind
my back I know a thistle fouls the
lily bed, a quick tail whisks beneath
the cellar wall, on some clear nights
a ring frames the moon.