HIGHWAY FIVE LOVE POEM
for Anna



This is a love poem for all the tomatoes
spread out in the fields along Highway Five,
their gleaming green and ruddy faces like a thousand
moons prostrate in praise of sun.
And for every curd of cloud,
clotted cream of cloud spooned briskly
by an unseen hand into the great blue bowl,
then out again, into a greedy mouth.
Cotton baled up beside the road,
altars to the patron saint of dryer lint.
Moist fudge of freshly-planted dirt.
Shaggy neglected savage grasses
bent into the wind's designs.
Sheep scattered over the landscape like fuzzy confetti,
or herded into stubbled funnels, moving like rough water
toward its secret source.
Egrets praying in the fields like
white-cloaked priests.
A dozen wise and ponderous cows
suddenly spurred to run, to gallop, even,
down a flank of hill.
Horses for sale, goats for sale, nopales for sale, orange groves for sale,
topless trailers carrying horses,
manes as loose and lovely as tomorrow in our mouths,
and now a giant pig, jostling majestic in the open
bed of a red pickup.


Ruth L. Schwartz
from Dear Good Naked Morning. Autumn House Press, 2005
We plan, we toil, we suffer
in the hope of what?
...The title deeds of Radio City?
...A trip to the moon?
No, no, no, no.
Simply to wake just in time
to smell coffee and bacon and eggs.
~ J. B. Priestley
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In Blackwater Woods
In the Library
Clear as Mud
Mockingbirds
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The Visitation
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Putting in a Window
Monet Refuses the Operation
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Thoughts in a Garden
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WELCOME!
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Winter Is the Best Time
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Song of the Open Road
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DIURNAL
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walking
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Highway Five Love Poem
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Late for Summer Weather
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So Much Happiness
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