Today's poem is by Terri Kirby Erickson
Just before you reach the Triple B Country
Sausage sign, there's an old red tractor
hunkering down beside the road.
You can hear the heavy sighs as it nestles
into the leaves, loosening its belt
and letting its chassis hang low. Blink
and you'll miss it twitch like a sleeping dog
the rise and fall of its rust-covered ribs
when it rolls at last, into a dream of wheat.
Copyright © 2014 Terri Kirby Erickson All rights reserved
from A Lake of Light and Clouds
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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