Pastoral

stark is the wood stove in the dark
its bulbous hull a womb
of popping embers
simmering corn filling the house
with a nutty perfume
what sounds but guzzle
of a pumped well
the gushing water against the metal
stark is slowness
scything of grass
chucking grain toward
chickens
low bark of hounds
gnats backlit by the sun
their flight pattern
scattered in gold
song of exoskeleton
zoom of the jun bug’s wings
lifting itself
from the screen door
and off to the damp night
far away roar of tire
bucking junk in the truck bed
slow sputter and buzz
of a mower echoed in the gully
the radio whispering
a piano that vibrated
gospel
when it uttered