Alien

The winter trees replied
when the wind questioned them
but no words I understood nor
did they speak to me.
The barn humped its back
against the low sun and
threw a shadow across my path.
Melting snow trickled past
a manure pile, stained
the edge of drifts and a rat
busy in corn spilled from
the broken side of a crib
made the solitude bearable
as if to say the lesson learned
from hard facts should teach me
the consolation of hunger.