The road signs up here
remind me of the Burma Shave posts
of forty years ago
flicking out words
a few at a time
giving the edge
to speed readers
and slow drivers.
And the residents too
in their clapboards
with indoor plumbing
looking up
from their board games
bewildered
hoping perhaps
that their ship
has come in
and maybe it has
or soon will
who's to say?
And the landscape too
in layers of snow
mute testimony
to nature's muscle.
One can imagine
a post office here
with an elderly postmistress
plying townsfolk
with freshly-baked oatmeal cookies
presented in a floral tin
with smiles
and small talk
a squeaky clothesline
with frayed undergarments
stiff
from the cold night air.
