Out the window of the bus,

the dome of heaven is HDTV blue;

horizon collared by Cool Whip clouds,

undersides sliced to flat gray — a job

for which even a god, it seems,

would need a Ginzu knife.

Narrow tree shaded rivers are

spanned by four-lane bridges,

railed with concrete signed: WPA.

Potato fields are smile-face yellow,

soybeans burnished in antique gold.

Brief leftover stands of trees,

slender young ones, hurry to deck

their vine in tangled red and copper,

must-have colors for fall this year.

Dry ochre clay fills roadside ditches.

We sure could use some rain.

Streznewski is a writer and teacher of writing in a variety of genres. Her poetry and short fiction have appeared in national publication. In preparation is a memoir recounting her recovery from open heart surgery. She lives on a Bucks County acre with her husband, Tom.

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