forsythia’s yellow feelers —

in full bloom,

crabgrass preventer’s

clarion call

marigolds,

not yet blooming,

I sow their seeds

with joyful

anticipation

tiny pink diamonds

shine on woodland floor

garter snake slithers

through last autumn’s leaves

my father’s hauling a load of walnut

I’m riding shotgun with an Archie’s comic,

green onion potato chips and an Orange Crush

we’re flying through small towns,

traversing the gravel and every backroad

to avoid the checkpoints, skirting the law

Daddy knows he’s stacked too many logs

and he’ll tip the scales

we’re two lonely outlaws, on the run,

trying to make it home in time

for Mama’s supper, hot out of the oven

she wants to be a forager,

a gatherer of nature’s treasures

its wildflowers & weeds,

its lithe & tenders branches,

its seed pods & roadside grasses

secateurs in hand

and a small bucket of water,

trekking poles and rubber boots

she’ll traverse gravel roads,

descend Iowa’s ditches

all in search of beauty,

wherever it is to be found