I hear the short, fast movements
of a skink over unraked leaves,
meeting the sun for long moments
of heat and renewal;
I don’t rake my yard;
mow only when it’s absolutely necessary
each spring.
The moss, violets, yellow trillium
tilting toward, among
the Asiatic dayflowers and clover.
The HOA hasn’t complained;
the neighborhood has
changed enough in the past
five years that maybe
policing isn’t that high of a priority
anymore. Nobody’s mentioned
the composter in the corner
of my back yard yet, either.
The squirrels and purple finch
know they are welcome.
Cardinals and sparrows
land, scratch for a seed
on what passes for my lawn,
ascend again.
Large moths, mayflies, and craneflies
come and go as they please
under the yellow porch light,
unbothered.
I police myself in softer ways
understanding nature is not
a world separate from human.
—
Loralee Clark’s fourth book, Neolithic Imaginings: Mythical Explorations of the Unknown (Kelsay Press, 2026), was released in April. Her interests include myth, the natural word and environmental science. She resides in Virginia; her website is sites.google.com/view/loraleeclark. Her Substack, which focuses on the process of creativity, is nosuchthingasfailure.substack.com.
