wherefore

it’s no different now      the snows have gone
the earth here flat      or carved      or curtained
is uncovered      the mounds no longer brown
after the melting      green along the verge

& places are where planting has begun
blooms & blossoms wave to no barn
the sound of her car is like the risen sun
as she enters the highway leaning on the horn

is it east light breaking on her windshield
that makes her somewhat crazy in the morning
or rather her knowledge of the fields
escaping human notice like a vanishing

how could such knowing like a rupture
make her floor the pedal & feel rapture

Jay Brecker walks and writes in southern California. His poems are forthcoming or have appeared in Poor Yorick, Sonora Review, The MacGuffin, Rattle Poets Respond, Birdcoat Quarterly, The Shore, Permafrost, Lily Poetry Review, Ocean State Review, RHINO Poetry, and elsewhere. His manuscript, blue collar eclogue was a finalist for the Concrete Wolf 2023 Louis Award.