It has been low, dim, and heavy,
heavens part, light swoops onto open waters,
the overflow of recent torrents
glittering sky-fish skim.
Keep on driving as if the road were silver rails.
Right and left window worlds out of synch
peripherally bifurcated by speed.
The heavens part un-stitching fraying seams,
smudges unravel. Light pushes
into the open mouths of surface breathers.
The grey is rent, more light bounces off eyes;
it is a fast road; squint, grip the wheel tighter.
Left and right small animals un-plod
from the wet earth, hedgerows whisk thin colors
expose nestlings in their cradle hideaways.
Pick up a cup of instant noodles,
a 6-pack from the quickie mart.
On the lot heavens are opening
one acre at a time,
light lowers like a faded wedding gown
dressing the cars in lacy.
Reach into condo, eat noodles, drink beer
while heavens knit together
with a last twinkle of silver needles.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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