One Poem by Rebecca Clifford

Driving In

a feral spots me exiting the house
               vacates the property at the speed of sound
she’s hunting mice this soft day
lawn needs mowing – always when it rains
poplar, a yellow torch scraping clouds
dogwood and spirea flame, glow, a lit fuse
               along the rail fence

truck grrrowls over three-quarter crush and run,
coughs displeasure at moving
we’re sluggish, we two

on the verge, bushes slouch
gravid with pendulous moist berries
satin caped grackles
  heckle our progress along the rutted road

gravel turns to tar and chip turns to tarmacadam
changes from two to four lanes, a median
               kilometres from thirty screech to one-twenty
wetness whispers off auto tires
               trucks with airbrakes and UltraCountry 109
bully past

                              no one signals lane changes


Rebecca Clifford has published works in Tower Poetry Anthologies, Tamaracks Anthology of Canadian Poetry, The Banister, The Rural Route, and similar publications. In 2017 and 2018 she won the Haldimand Country Poetry Contests. Rebecca writes for amusement, pleasure, sport, and general sanity. She lives in rural Ontario, Canada.

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