by Nick Conrad
Crops of plenty gone
in an instant, the combine’s
quick harvest leaving enough
still for days of grazing, snout close
to earth, lips, teeth seizing
the shattered soybeans, the odd
whole one a delight, dusk’s slow fade
as cue to venture further out
into the field, each step
leading to the next, till something,
a car’s roar, a brake’s squeal,
prompts a quick look about,
ears locked on street noise,
eyes wide; a sudden awareness
of being seen standing there
on land stripped of cover.
Nick Conrad ‘s poems continue to appear in national and international journals, most recently in current issues of Aquifer: The Florida Review Online, Cider Press Review, and Concho River Review and have been accepted for a future issues of Common Ground Review, The MacGuffin, North Dakota Quarterly and Visions-International. His first book, Lake Erie Blues, appeared in late August, 2020 from Urban Farmhouse Press as part of their Crossroads Poetry Series.
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