Vermillions

*

Thin shoes, frost path.

A luxurious tradition of light weeding,

the worn handle of a hoe
that once raked up a fox jaw.


Turn is it time to?
At the very brim, a bin of leaves.
Vermillions are under here somewhere,
slick and glittered,
dying in rich chemistry.

A drought will kill the moss
and everything in it.