Visitors

Something is eating the grapes
Don’t know what,
But there have been greenish lights
At night in the vineyard,
The camo camera flashed,
The digital image showed nothing
Except a faint haze around where
Whatever it was laid,
The dogs won’t go there,
They sniff and whine
Then go lay down
With their ears perked up
While we tend to the harvest,
Wondering at the missing fruits
On the lower one third of the vines,
Turkeys the neighbor said,
Or maybe deer,
But there are no signs,
Only a faint rustling of leaves
Where the brushy woods start,
A faint sigh heard as we take the rest.