The scissor-tail slices sky,
bridging fields over the back
road, wind pushing until
it arcs like a kite. First

sighting of the season
yet the stolid cows chew
unseeing, their downcast
eyes foraging even as

the black vultures highstep
away from the opossum’s
stillness not two fence sections
away. Out in the road, two

box turtles shamble toward
the new corn, their tiny legs
churning up spits of dust.
Sure sign of rain, Pa said.

By Pat Anthony

To read more of Pat Anthony’s poems, click here to visit middlecreekcurrents.

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