Interstate
Out past the pond, at the horizon
the Interstate
The wind carries away the brattle of the eighteen-wheeled diesels,
the thrum of steel-belted radials on the cars of the afternoon commuters--
swift, silent shuttles
zipping the seam of earth and sky.
A pond was mentioned--
sky-reflecting, silver-gray, wind-riffled
on which a mallard rises, beating into the easy breeze
Up for a joy fly, a bit of waterfowl fun
skimming fast and low
lifts, drops, and lifts again in the interstate turbulence
of air and water
...............................................Israel Lewis