Wearing the Green

Written by: Taylor Graham

Under a fading Celtic moon, half
a coin left over from last night, my sheep 
are feasting on pasture lush and wild 
with turkeys’ wings. A titmouse chick-a-dees 
from an oak that’s spring-fresh green. 
On hands and knees, I harvest Indian lettuce 
for a salad. Do sheep wonder at my human 
foraging? I’ll come back home 
wearing colors of the field, muddy knees
grass-stained; I’m hungry to savor 
my tiny isle of green.