Excursions

 These fields we pass in February

Wear a mottled tawny pelt

 like that of a shaggy ancient lion

Whos to tired to pounce or fight.

He lies with heaving yellow chest 

uplifting towards the diluted sun

waving his cattail like a metromone 

against the winters wind.

*******

No snow or grass covers these

bruised gray mountain ranges.

An early march rain came and scoured

clean every dusty, rusty patch. 

The metallic crevices ooze 

with icy tears, waiting for the sun,

Like a loving mother, to come out

and offer down her healing kisses.

You and I rush down the highway

looking for signs of an early spring. 

but see fallen trees and fallen branches

Piled high like twisted frames of eroding see

sunning on an abandoned used car lot.