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.