blue skies poetry

Spinning clicks of combines have dispersed into ash and chaff
and red-rusted handles.

They sit in a row, lining a corn field
that will never feel them again. Around their flat tires, cows eat

brown grass made autumn leaf orange by rust and midday sun,
chewing their lips into smiles.

On a two lane road, Amish pass
me in a caravan of Chevys. Their beards-smothered by windshields

and air conditioning-like priests yell blasphemy toward stiff brown hats
shades darker brown and darker brown-

indifferent. I enjoy driving in Ohio.
I enjoy seeing the passing parishes through the safety of my window,

through the danger I create with waned attention given to roadside cats
and ostrich farms. Forgetting my

speedometer I forget my gas peddle
and idle into a life of cloth seats supporting me and with this realization

my truck stops. I am surrounded by rowed fields ready to grow my lunch
in months to come, or days,

or now because the seeds in
my palm feel fresh enough to eat standing here among dirt and insects,

all of them waiting, too, for the great harvest,
or death. What a terrible thing to say.

~ Joe Betz

Joe Betz is an undergraduate English Studies major at Ball State University, located in northern Indiana. After graduating in December he plans to pursue an MFA focusing on creative writing and poetry.

Filed under: Joe Betz by akublik Date 12 November, 2007