Look out! my nightmare shouted,
as she crashed across the porch, flailing the shadows with a crutch.
Dark wind blew a storm of dust, or feathers, and lightning

Shadows from the spruce woods slouch down the hill,
the windmill’s crippled shadow
pierces the house, a blue fog spirits

Kicking through woods and fields, I’d spooked several
and once stepped on a coachwhip among gravestones,
at least one garter curled like a bow

Out of some toasty leaf-burrow she wallows into the cold,
following what calls her across
the icy crust of creek and up the ridge to my yard,

In the living room of the trailer, the father of the woman
I love calls the family into a huddle.
Dinner is over, the charcoal is ash on the grill.

As a barrier against mosquitoes,
I pull an old sheet from the closet
and cross the yard,