God's Little Acre. Fraction.
In counting the vegetation, six Douglas fir,
two cedar, all 30 feet in height,
a broken palisade against sunshine
which isn't coming,
it being the March rains called showers
causing river rise
the industrial parks built on valley silt farm land,
lower, flooding, it's late winter
the time to walk the perimeter and its interior,
a desmesne under family name,
to go, as provided in devise,
to the Fine Daughter
and her consort when he will
and their heirs in perpetuity,
they're not even living nearby,
nor has she yet met him,
yet the land is firmly hers
and the projected his, too,
through eventual encounter and conjugality
and let this be public notice thereof
and that my boots trod this land this day
amongst the junipers and large old rhododendron
whose flowers soon enough will match
the size of a human head,
and nubby lawn and knobby tree roots snaking
to widely balance the tree heights,
the color green as Ireland
half way around the world,
and that I'm lord for now,
ambling this very parcel here.
Trulyfool
Posted over on his site Light at the End of the Tether
Listed as #34 over on Magpie Tales 57
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