Just your average morning shoving
three goatbutts into a bright blue Kia
then heading off to work. I drive
along the first branch of a river,
past brandnew calves, sideways barns,
and the sign that reads FROST HEAVE
AHEAD which no one’s taken down
because just seeing it makes the green
of the pastures an even sweeter sight.
The silos this morning are brimming
with the years they’ve seen, the guineas
bold enough to eat the grass that runs
along the road, and the local library
has its OPEN flag highfiving the wind.
On days like this, it feels like everyone
and their mother is pushing a wellworn
wheelbarrow in the direction of joy.
(That image is a poemjoke. Do you get it?)
panache, perhaps 