Into The Shade Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Cicadas echoing to their house wives
That is this
And this is that- as the cars drive by,
And the cat
Sleeps on holidays- sleeps a long while on
The mat:
The sky above the trees of that- the houses
In ribbons upon the lake,
The families within them taking the take-
Festival of their bodies
I watch them partake, them never conceiving
The mistake of mistake
And they are leaning fully into the shade
As the fox cleans out the chicken coops
In which the hens thought to have laid.