Eve of destruction

Having devoured the ruffled flowers 

Off the tops of my fennel plants, 

She’s now staring at my neighbor’s yard 

As if anticipating threat, 

Though possibly just wondering 

If their plums are ripe yet 

(Ours aren’t: though they’re turning redder 

And have been falling off the trees, 

They’re still quite sour; 

Judging from the times I catch the deer 

With apples in their mouths, 

Our unripe apples are far sweeter 

Than the cherries and the plums). 

Just another evening in a yard 

Where everything seems to be 

a target for destruction.