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.
