There Are People Out There With Courage
The town had been stockpiling apples.
Apples in silos, apples in baskets,
under tables and in corners, apples
bursting out of children’s clothes. If
we didn’t have them, it would be
someone else who did.
In the street there was talk
of tumbling, a great series of falls. First
the lights of the school would darken,
then grocery doors would seal
themselves. Soon we would learn
the meaning of hermitage, or
worse. A tall fist clenching
above our heads.
It was easy to see the wolves
descending from the hills at night
to steal our young. There was bitterness
in the water; we melted bucketfuls
from snow. We said there are people
out there with courage. Knowing
and nameless, protection
we can taste.