Morning coffee at the Bear Paw Bakery
requires the mettle of a Montana driver
The car acts like a drunk on the dirt road
Sloppy as a warm chocolate bar
I relax the steering wheel the way I learned at 14
to let go and give in to invisible great forces
Press the accelerator in my vintage Lucchese boot
to ten m.p.h. with no braking
To keep from sliding into the roadside parade
of young pheasants behind their mother
Down the road a cottontail wasn’t so lucky
In polite farmer protocol its flattened body
has been moved to the far side of the road
A murder of crows waits on a power line
to clean up t...
