Road Poems

Traffic stops for

road construction

and all at once

the air fills up

with willow down

to indicate

a change of speed.


Saturday night!

Two ponytails

in a Chev truck.


A drop of rain

after crawling

upwards for such

a long, long time

now finally

lays its burden

down on my hood


On the way there

the river was

fulltide brimming.

On the way back

it was no more

than a trickle,

empty except for

one clamdigger.


Driving away

from the sunset

my rear view

mirror goes gold.


The buck lifted

out of the fog

into his windshield,

so the last thing

that they both saw

was each other.


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