Rosa

Seeking Wild Strawberries Along Back Roads

Always a shot,            a chance to boil over,
to moan in a heat wave.

Throw out –
&&&&&&&&&&conclusions that smack of last word.

Rash-glitz and shine of earth mirages
&&&&&scent of who you may be,      that body
&&&&&&&&&&you trust
in reflections.

&&&&&You see more than persons in these fields and woods.

You see causes.

&&&&&&&&&&You toss away each soft and bitter one
&&&&&&&&&&still green in places.

Here is a keeper. Sandy on the tongue
it sparks
&&&&&&&&&&a premise
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&worth hoping for.

You don’t gobble such a message.