Yesterday, the land went dry. I sprinkled ash of my neighbor's urn Over the yard. Sprinkled in the hope That should I cut out A pie wedge, I would find gold. Buried in the ground Between the grass and growth. Instead, the earth skin cracking And a great wind, more ash, Slivers of the ground burning in the eyes Of ones, who, standing there... Long ago, when it all began The dog would dig the ground And whisper, "Master, come to the garden. By your hand to the spade, cut away behind your house. Cut away for coins. Cut away to the buried..