Long Acre Blues

   A summer so dry
the cattle are grazing the long acre.
Trees slump low in the midday sun

   while someone says on
the radio that someone will soon die
from taking the abortion pill.

   And this is my life.
I'm driving in a long black car
over the Rosedale saddle.

   I'm following a trail
of dust—my child and my wife
way up there on the hill.