The Bend and Rise of Streets
       

The white inside wing of a gull
gave brightness to the gray street this morning,
fluttering between parked cars as I passed

then the sudden rising up,
the pivotal tum away from me.
Wings open, dark eyes

between that wingspan,
the flight so certain and fluid
I lost direction. I stuttered

and slowed the car
and shook off following,
let memory be my compass

in this bend and rise of streets.
On this road, two stop signs
then a right tum at the flashing signal.

Up the steep hill. Another right
at the gravel road. I could remember
street names but my body recalls

more easily the upward slope
of a hill or the bend within
a curved road. I lean and tum,

a gull heading north
for the summer.
A car and a current.

A path and a migratory pattern.
Goldenrod and pine trees blur
into gray bridges and roads.

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Copyright © 2014 Julie Brooks Barbour All rights reserved
from Small Chimes
Kelsay Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission