Cane by cane, hand saws skive
the bamboo grove, expose the nest
woodrats have woven leaf by branch —
their vast home now wrenched, bunged
& listing. Rats small & large scramble
down the inner stalks, infants tumble
— two cling to a startled cutter’s hands —
these young abandoned won’t survive.
Strung like rags from a dozen canes
the battered buckled nest sifts & sways.
Who knows what remains inside —
more young, more dying — the stench
around the ravaged grove takes days
to subside. Rats, for all that, abide.
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