There’s a storm breeze.
We’ve had it with the City.
Stifling hot day.
Concrete and heat wall.
North of town past Conestogo.
Blackbirds sail over young corn-rows
Surveying the future yield.
Golden wheat reminds of sunnier times
Now black edge of storm floats over.
Mother and daughter – Mennonites
Show expressions of confidence and delight
As they flick the reins
And a two-horse team
Picks up the pace in the gravel margin.
Our Toyota purrs past these
Clopping fellow travelers.
A pleasant wave.
Farm neighbors further on
Host the early season flower table.
Cash jar to one side – all brilliant yellow
Windows full open now
For the breeze and the fragrance.
Mown hay – a father in the cab
With rosy-cheeked child on his lap
Steering the rig…well, sort of.
A scolding of red-wing
Piercing our space,
Then left behind
Somewhere in the tall grass.
We look for it – the lane
Try to remember the advance markings
Two tall silos, a long mustard poultry barn.
Reid Woods Drive
Gravel surface, but recently graded
And a favourite side lane
Where we park, watching goldfinches bob;
Crops clapping fragile hands;
And pigeons playing musical chairs
On the barns opposite.
They also sense the rain’s approach.