Manor

Manor 

“It sure was pleasant to spend
 a day in the country”

The tone of a shotgun
shudders slower than the slug
plucks the bones.
 
The rapeseed shining bright
in rhapsody swims
between the intermittent homes. 

Rough hay has been huffed
all over the place;
the P.C. cracks a joke: “baleful.”

The next farm along has horse ears
itching. Once-tough scarecrows
are twitching. The beautiful country is awful.