Forgotten Ground Regained

The Woodchuck

Listen! to the lay · of the loathsome lurker,grumbling grabber, the greedy groundhog.Woodchuck lay waiting, woe to wreakon the greening garden, gleaming in glory.Broad lay the bean-leaves, bright the beet-greens,tomatoes like torches · under green thatching;hoard of the hoe-handler, heavy and hallowed,luring the ground-grubber · seeking his guerdon.Rising sun reddened · the light on the rabbit-roadwhen came the woodchuck · greedily waddling.Wait! from the window · a waking watcherdamp-eyed at dawning, seeking delightin the burgeoning birdsong · beholds the burglar.Bare as a newborn · baby he barrelsdown the descent · of the still-dark staircase.Hardy the hero, hardly holdingthe burnished bannister, burning for battle!Seizing the sword · he had snapped from a sapling(sweet the scent · of the maple-switch)leaping aloft · up the little lawnheadlong hurls · himself on the horror,the fanged fiend, the fearsome foe.But bitter the battle · barely begunand suddenly sundered; seizing the sweet leaf,footing fleetly, the fiend fled.Then came the tremor: were the tomatoesfelled by those fangs? Faintly, he felt themwith his fair fingers: firm, unfallen.Praise, then, the pride · of our peerless princeling,savior of salads, sage-leaf and spinach;long though the leaves · must grow ere the lettuceprepares for its plucking, peppers for paring,still will the watcher · wait at the window.Strength to his sword, the sweetness-saver.
Copyright © Rachel Trousdale, 2024 First printed in Forgotten Ground Regained, New Series, Issue 5, Winter, 2025
No part of this site may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems