Muskrats in the Cornfield

Persuasion of rain and sun
makes stalks thicken, stretch up,
bulge with green sap, bathe in
chlorophyll, confirm my faith
in miracles.

In a pool by the tile’s mouth
near the road, humped-up houses
like bubbles of straw belong to
invaders with sharp animal teeth.
Brown furry night sneakers
whoop it up among the cornstalks,
soft, luscious, green, juicy,
cut a swath in a widening arc
and leave a desert of stumps
like a cut over forest.

Instincts on four feet run with luck,
my tame daytime two-footed wits
limp snarling at any appetite
that makes a shambles of my seedwork.