THE FERRET

My father standing with me by a woodshed spoke:

There are a million rabbits in that cord of wood.

With a weathered stick of lathe he pointed to a wedge

Where between the logs our old black spaniel

On her belly slipped in and chased them out

Like a ferret, said my father, like a ferret.

I took then the figures of his speech for fact

And even to this day when I recall my father

I see the woodshed where he stood like a magician,

The silver stick of lathe, the stack of wood, the wedge

With rabbits and rabbits and a ferret coming out.