Poems from the Road

Iowa

two hundred years ago

a golden sea now gold-tipped

corn runs in rows

and waves and follows from the tide of sun

and soil

the wind is glad here

it brushes over gentle hills

like grandma's print cotton apron settles upon its peg

of pinwheel wind turbine

culling a crop of prairie wind

it sings like cicadas

a constant familiar song

soybean leaves complement the sky

she widens down, a bell of blue

unbroken brings a smile like

farm fields' wildflower verge

Iowa is

where the earth feeds us.

Missouri

Wears trees like feathers

with fields tucked in

the sweet sun stealing color from cut hay

clouds stealing across the brow of day

we roll up another hill

then down again over Pole Cat Creek

stretching a lazy leg, the varmit

nothing is quite level, straight

nothing without a bit of overgrown

at the edges

license plates say

show me

yes, i believe you can

when we pass on Missouri

she will take us in overgrown

with green

like old farmhouses

tree-trimmed and winged

Kansas

lean

all framed by sky

the fence-posts seem ten feet tall

the sky would be a character

if Kansas were a novel

and rickety windmills

barns like an old man's face

from squinting into sun but

to live here must mean

to fall in love with blue

sudden storm

and rush of rain

Oklahoma

truck stop

called Love's

by the highway

scissor tails

and killdeer fly

like parables on a backdrop

of husky evening air

rusty white chevrolet

pulls away with JESUS

custom license plates

goodbye

God be with you.

South Texas

arroyo choked

one heavy rain the rio rises

the fruit clusters red on the prickly pear

that clusters everywhere

the century

american agave

expires in a single bloom

higher than a human head

can death be

an unexpected beauty?

look, three columns of cloud

kicked up on the horizon

scan the sunset

a pack of dogs runs loose

by sky-blue tin-roofed casas

night is beginning

i am still looking

west my eyes

tinged pink

arroyo rain-choked the rio

will be deep with God

vaya