Morning Drive

Nature poem

Two calves and their mother. Awake and lumbering

across an open field covered in dew. Grey clouds

pouring from their mouths.

The morning is foggy and cold. And what do they

have to look forward to? Breakfast maybe. A walk

to the shade. A nap in the brush.

Day to day to day. There is no anticipation. There

is only what is and what is to come. Not could.

I’m driving and watching them. An unfamiliar road.

Trying to let it take me. Thinking about something

that hasn’t happened yet. The next bend.

But still, they are moving across the field in slow steps.

Guided by one purpose and then another.

Purpose, maybe that is the key. A lost one hidden in

the couch somewhere. Forgotten along the way

I press down on the pedal harder. I anticipate the next

turn. And then the next. And then all of them. Afraid

if I let go, it will catch me.

There is no way out of this.