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In the Place of the Piscataway

She trots through the field, bistre brown coat glowing in the sun. From yon to yon, my eyes trace after her, and my body moves towards her, diagonally, along the perimeter of a wire fence, then a split rail fence, of the kind the settlers built in this land once flush with forest.

autumn is ending
at Colonial Farm
in Piscataway Park
American Milking Devons
graze their field

The display explains the endangered breeds of farm animals, akin to endangered species of the wild. American Milking Devons, Java Chickens, Hog Island Sheep, all of whom settled the frontier with the pioneer farmers, but have since outlived their commercial usefulness. Not that one would know any of this, watching them graze.

adagio
a piacere
con grazia
the whisks
of the bull's tail

He gets up now, following the herd, his herd, his harem perhaps for he is the only bull they say, across the field, snacking casually along the way. As for me, I can’t follow them any further, on this other side of the fence. I came to them, and for a while was beside them, but now they’ve left, and I admire them from afar as though gazing upon the moon and stars

where the mown field ends
the road home
begins . . .
autumn
wistfulness

About the Author

Ryland Shengzhi Li (李晟之) is a poet and environmental lawyer living in Northern Virginia, USA. Poetry teaches him how to pay attention and to see the beauty and interdependence of all things.


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