12/23/16, Between Springfield and New Berlin
Published in
1 min readDec 26, 2016
Driving between farmlands fallow and winter-wasted,
their emerald and amber tractors parked at sloppy intervals
like frozen insects on some grandma’s unswept porch.
The presents shift in the trunk, collide and crunch,
their spangled and silver skin still awkward and new,
transforming books and bad ties into sigils of love.
