Deadnettle

I drive east to Ohio in springtime
past miles of once-grey fields
suddenly blushing waves of purple.

Deadnettle, Henbit, splashes of
yellow Butterflower burst forth
in the low areas just as in the distance

hardwood Maples and Poplars, leaf emerald
lime against the bones of dying Ash.
All is an impressionist painting blur.

Study in perspective, vanishing point
color theory, layering (if you glimpse
the understory).

I drive east. I feel my margins fuzz

It’s all backroads. Seasons
of coming and going through spattered
windshield. Rearview mirror.