The fallow field is where the seagulls are.

Here, several weeks ago, a tall and green

Expanse of vegetation stretched afar

From my back fence. Now only soil is seen.

A flock of sheep was herded in one night.

Lush greenery concealed its presence till

Long snouts emerged, in time, above the height

Of vegetation being gobbled still.

When they had finished feasting, you could spy

Few traces of green leaves: the land was bare.

It’s earthworms’ time to farm the surface by

Exchanging subsoil with manure and air.

Long beaks may prey on worms—but seagulls’ yield

Does not deter renewal of the field!