The Hungry Gap-Time -- Thomas Lux

(Poem #88)The Hungry Gap-Time late August, before the harvest, every one of us worn down by the plow, the hoe, rake,  and worry over rain. Chicken Coop confiscated by the rats and the raptors with nary a mouse to hunt. The corn's too green and hard, and the larder's down to dried apples and double-corned cod. We lie on our backs and stare at the blue; our work is done, our bellies flat. The mold on the wheat killed hardly a sheaf. The lambs fatten on the grass, our pigs we set to forage on their own-they'll be back when they whiff the first shucked ears of corn. Albert's counting bushels in his head to see if there's enough to ask Harriet's father for her hand. Harriet's father is thinking about Harriet's mother's bread pudding. The boys and girls  splash in the creek,  which is low but cold. Soon, soon there will be food again, and from what our hands have done we shall live another year here by the river in the valley  above the fault line beneath the mountain. -- Thomas Lux