Ode to country neighbors

who came the first week
with welcome
brownies and soup,
when the stove still concealed
a dead mouse and the boxes
were stacked three high
in the kitchen. Who came
to show us the rhubarb patch
in the overgrown garden,
and the horseradish
in the weeds.
Who tapped the trees,
then came with syrup.
Who hayed the fields,
then gave us hay.
Who brought a shotgun
and then a cooler of dark meat.
Who brought milk and eggs and soap.
Who brought a generator before
the storm hit, fixed the brakes,
held the ladder, lent the plow.
Who let the toddler fill each pocket
with rocks, thanking her, gravely,
again and again.