Calm Arrives With a Western Breeze
The car stopped at a backroads stop sign
(there are so many)
and would not go again.
Birdsong, birdsong, cell phone and clouds
fill the air with summer and talk talk
then only birdsong, birdsong and clouds.
Tall grass swaying
as tall grass sways in late summer, gusting breezes,
seed head heavy, bowing slightly,
straightening to kiss the sun and bowing again
like opiated dancers,
celebrating the last of days.
soft red breasted,
gobble berries in roadside shrubbery.
Cars whish by going
where cars go
at 10 AM Wednesday mornings.
A cheeky flush-faced old man,
glasses staring from under a bulbous,
perfectly spherical, bright, shiny red, open faced helmut
putt, putt, putts his moped
past the imperfectly parked
Two minutes later he putt, putt, putts past again,
and yet again for a third time
before going left where he previously went right,
disappearing, putt, putt, putt up School Road.
a tow truck arrives.
Dieselstink and motornoise
convince the grosbeaks
to find another shrubbery
in a less busy place.
so fleeting for so many years
fills the broken car
tow truck world
with ocher highlights,
and soft greypurple
giving the heavy, hazy sky
Gears and cables strain
the car onto a diamond patterned
Detours force more backwoods riding.
The driver makes small talk.
Gas too expensive.
Dealers not busy.
Summer too short.
Flash of meadowlark
out the window,
his exaltation imagined,
his rising song unheard
through the steel and wind noise
none-the-less refreshes relaxation.
At the garage
the service manager expects impatience
He seems to distrust the calm,
acceptance of time restraints.
He hurries to create necessary paperwork
while mechanics break for lunch.
He rushes, requests signature
then points toward the door
as if none of his stories
prepared him for decency
or serenity in the face of inconvenience.
Originally published August 8, 2008