RED WATER, BRONZE WORDS

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

The road is just more geology
we kick up pale dust that hangs
peels back to the left
northbound lane
a hawk circles low

America 
I sometimes wish
you would remember me
under the glitter
on frozen moss and snow
the wet seasons
red water
bronze words
new shoots of spring wheat

I have enough despair for two people

A voice calls me to the river

When you see my reflection
in the dewdrops 
on the heather
you'll know that I have returned