Terrain 2
What our plains are what our evening sun sets into
curb corralled green weedy grass
sipping gasoline and swimming in
morning-mist-like end of day insidious
smog
where stringy star blooms of ground grass lean
on giving stems against the whipping
cars and old breezes, somehow thriving
in these U shaped, T shaped, D shaped paddocks
that design the rushhour road
And yet a respite on a drive routine crawl
today to hourly living, a respite
between my lane and the highway
ponds of growth herding cars north or south
and the ramps and flyovers are
almost hills and almost vales and almost land
and the sun sinking behind this
suddenly isn’t so bad.
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