Retrospective
The Rats
In the courtyard the autumn moon shines white.
From the eaves phantom-like shadows fall.
A silence dwells in empty windows;
Then the rats dip quietly upstairs
And scurry whistling here and there
And a grayish whiff of vapor drifts
After them from the outhouse,
Through which moonlight trembles ghostly,
And they nag as if mad from greed
And crowd house and barns
Filled with corn and fruits.
Icy winds whine in the darkness.
© Jim Doss & Werner Schmitt
