Early mist
the roads scan
quiet, dustless.
Dew sleeves stems
of field grass
transparent silver
like mercury glass glowing
in low light
cool light
dawn.
Mid-morning promises
wider travels
predicted
like forecasts
just that much off
with the sun’s slant.
Plants tug at bees
or expire
await the swell of fruit
seasonal adjustments
fish sleep
fin the current’s
sweep, eyes wide.
Maps fade
in afternoon sun
directions alter
fingers trace.
Night reveals signs
red lines, bright lines
my blue-lined river.
Sheryl White is an artist and writer living in Boston. Her writing has been published in Ibbetson Street Press, Blast Furnace, Solstice Literary Journal, Poetry Quarterly, and The Boston Globe, and is upcoming in Split Rock Review.In 2016, she received a Massachusetts Cultural Council Poetry Finalist Grant and Mayor of Boston Poetry Program award.
© 2017, Sheryl White
