The Poet Community

Ladies of the Auxiliary | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

A downer by every inch,
perched over a back road,
short woodcutting tags,
gas saw dead in the dirt;
a silent spark plug flashes
finally at dark, pull rope
jumped the coil to life,
useless on a cylinder head.
A dozen miles to town,
hardtack gone, worn tires,
short days to the end of
cutting season, a late night
breeze into the tree tops,
when in the small hours
the starlight goes missing
in a vast shadowy gloom;
nose to nose at the tent flap
with a full size foraging bear
whose then rueful departure
cancels all mechanical
failure.


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