The asphalt dries under the rising sun.
A crow steps over the broken glass,
tossed pebbles and fast food litter
of the road’s tattered shoulder.
Where they flock they block the view
of a midnight miscalculation carcass.
Hunks of flesh are ripped
and throats tip back to take it in.
A tumbleweed rolls into the sage
and parks against a wire fence
with a third rail electrified
to zap the grazing cow come too close.
A fence post flycatcher
zips up into the air,
performs winged acrobatics
and returns.
The cloudless sky promises
a deluge of heat,
the rising ripples
fool the watering eye.
A roadrunner dashes crazy loops.
A dance. Lunacy. A religious
practice summoning more rain
to bring the burrowing munchies to the surface.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 