Analysis of Ohio

Torn cotton clouds
Lit like lanterns by bolts of
Sunlight, their wispy wicks
Burn hot and high over muddy rivers
And black asphalt mirrors

Factory fumes like Marlboro reds
Trail fiery and forgotten into the
Forest's knotted, dirty hair
Where they fall asleep in
A warm bed of clay-choked soil.
A redtail circles the dull
Brown of unshorn fields, waiting
For rabbits to emerge and
Sweep them away like
A late April chill-
The sort that lifts your head
From the low window of a car
And lets you forget the snow
Even as the white of the sunlit clouds
Makes you remember it

As they stroll idly through the sky
Seeming to touch your flesh with the breeze