THEY

THEY

They stop by the water and scatter the bees;
walk through the woods,
And swat at the fleas.
They take cameras to catch deer
As they gnaw bark from the trees.
They eat cheese and bread on the forest floor
on a blanket made of cotton.
They lean on each other as they speak
Of the few they call "rotten."
They make cards and compose small notes.
They plant rows of tomatoes to can and keep.
They gather cows and goats,
all manner of sheep.
They cut down trees and clear forests
to make meadows.
How else to see the flowers better?
They keep a few memorable letters.
When apart they reveal the contents of the heart
And beg that love be forever.
They make houses where they cook,
And craft glass to see how pretty they can look.
They make small people and
wrap them, blanketed as cocoons.
And for Mother’s day they bake a clay pot
that may someday break. But even so,
each summer they journey to the lake
to catch the loons when the water quakes.