Couchwood* in mid-April

I sit in sight of both perimeters:
as I look left, the road, a fence row once;
and on my right, a chain link fence, unseen
by decades-growth of privet (used to be
a sweet gum climber--we'd go to the top)
and honeysuckle-wrapped crape myrtle, all
so dense, a day of clipping, pulling work
would add a like amount to burning pile.

I used both batteries to weed-eat grass
around the shed where tansy, lamb's ear thrive,
and filled a barrow high with last year's stalks
and this year's spreading grasses. Still some light,
I bring a chair out, tea and journal. Cats,
like whispers, maunder here and there. I find
four kittens! They'll soon leave this hill. A trip
to Doctor Pat-the-vet will be their end,
humanely. Insects force a close to this
as darkness of the spring-leafed trees absorbs
the waning, cloudy light. And so good night.
~~ c 2011--Pat Couch Laster dba lovepat press

* the name I gave the old homeplace where the Couches have lived for four generations.