My hands on the wheel
The sun rises between them
Like a ball through the uprights.
It sets it wet light along the stray highway.
Bottles pop up crippled in the landscape,
Melding with emerging spring
Flowers, wild in their nature.
Glitzy as tin, plastic, paper corsages,
Scattered by the abstract hand of anonymous,
The wild glass steals light—
Green, blue, brown, crystal.
William Carlos Williams once
Poeticized shattered glass.
All I see between lines
Are double negatives, invasive invaders,
Obscene obscenities, sorest eyesores.
Amongst corn stubble
Oil derricks pluck the earth
Like a chain gang.
—
Robert E. Petras is a resident of Toronto, Ohio and a graduate of West Liberty University. His poetry and nonfiction have appeared in more than 200 publications in the world. He is a certified naturalist, pollinator steward, nutritionist and forest therapist. He spends much of his time outdoors in the forest and the water and is a strong advocate for the environment.
