with the tall trees of corn and a toy truck full of grubs.
on the roof of your car we watch the sun, barely above
the treetops, dread going home and gaze at dead corn stubs.
driving my father's car for the first time, i swing
off the road to watch a flustered turkey flock
wandering through a frozen cornfield, intently gleaning.
from the car i watch as the quiet birds peck the stalks.
now on the same state highway we take a detour.
i've always seen this road, 'let's go for a walk'
is all the convincing i need. i've always loved to explore.
stomping through the cornfields i splinter brittle stalks
and paint my cuffs with encrusted mud, because despite the early frost,
the following thaw had softened the earth, hardening my thoughts.
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