grove below the wet pasture,
water's about hot,
I sit in the open window
& roll a smoke.
distant dogs bark, a pair of
cawing crows; the twang
of a pygmy nuthatch high in a pine -
from behind the cypress windrow
the mare moves up, grazing.
a soft continuous roar
comes out of the far valley
of the six-lane highway - thousands
and thousands of cars
driving men to work.
Source: No Nature: New and Selected Poems
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