Monday, February 15, 2016

an alliterative account of a three-county drive


counting county lines as we cross
mariposa
merced
madera
oaks stand still
bare-branched and ghostly
against the greening hillsides
fiddleneck flowers along fencelines
and roadsides
cattle graze
contentedly
quietly
meadowlarks alight atop fenceposts
breasts bursting with heartbreakingly beautiful song
making melodious love
to the warm spring air