County Road

The county road speeds north
From Elmvale, straight and flat,
Two hours after sunset in a
Late March night as winter flourishes.

The sky is soft and sturdy,
Blue, lit from the snow below,
Lightest where they seem to touch
At both the centre and the edge of things,
And deepest at the vault.

The woodlots punctuate a
Silent conversation—
Flat snow, flat sky, exchanging and returning
Hues I still cannot describe.

To call this ‘earth’ and ‘sky’
Injects and antiquating opposition
Foreign to the place; the car speeds by
And does not shift the tones or
Burst the seamless web.