At first there were mutterings
as a few leaves gathered outside
the windows near the garden.
Not anticipating any trouble
we retired shortly after sunset
just as the first bats were about.
We were awakened shortly
after sunrise as the early birds
were returning to their nestlings.
It was my wife who shook me:
“I think the rhubarb are attacking,”
“Don’t be silly: rhubarb don’t attack.”
They were straining to breach
the windows, as far as the eye
could see, a maze of huge leaves.
Clamoring and thumping against
the window. They never said
what they wanted, but— what’s that?