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New blooms

waving cups of white

at blades of tender green

-I turned my head to see,

but the field fell behind –

curved like arms I could have laid with all my life.

Fresh leaves

snapped back to whip

the air; a reach overshadowing

-I couldn’t see the top

outside my window’s scope –

roots that cricked their necks in envy of their sun.

Still waters

gleamed reflections

rippled with peace

-too far away the road

took me, to see the deepest part –

that could have cooled my feet.

Mountains write

amber honey atop

the falling sky

-it fills the windshield

with their words –

higher than roads can tread.

Yellow ribs

line each side

in bars neat and clean

-these I see quite clearly

as they hem me in –

squeezing tight the engine in between.

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