The Year Shifts Gears

The highway lanes of the river
have a hush–
black tarmac, gum smack,
broken rest stop toilet flush.

Rocky guardrails and
green vegetation signs
keep the ramblers in line
during hours of rush.

The gnats inch forward
in their traffic jam,
start and stop
to avoid a crush.

While up in the trees,
leaves play pachinko
through pine tree pins
waiting for
a jackpot’s gush.

A momentary retouch
before fall presses in on the clutch.

© 2022 | K.Hartless


    • Thank you, Jaya. So silly I didn’t see this one. This poem was a great find on a hike near Great Falls. The photo was not mine, but oh, that rambling river. Hope the season finds you well, dear poet.

      Liked by 1 person

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