Ohio Dawning's

Did you remake yourself out of rust and algae again? Yesterday was a gray beached hull now it’s summer in the cornfields, the tangy air has a towheaded fizz. The mosquitoes have submarines they crash-dive each new morn. The flowers are all gulping, and the rain is just enough. Light flirts around mossy steel silos and the brick and mortar works of grandfatherly hands. Sorry I missed you, I hear your dawn was spectacular, that the mist was a chromed coin on the tongues of farm hands. At that moment I was watching a nickel dipped sunrise paddle over a shimmering horizon. I photographed it, but missed all the otherness elsewhere, and of course you had changed again before I could get to you.