dirt road diplomacy

the falling seeds
are not frightened
of the reality that they meet

the family in textile manure
seeks to soften the blow with rest
quietly resenting the pledged rain

like a courtroom scene
all too common and deliberately unkind
with dirt road diplomacy

drinking the wine of asphalt memories
trickling along a sheath noon
and perhaps a great pleasure to God’s
mistaken tools of aggregate disclosure
in defense of broken lapping songs
and triathlon strategy of sapped agreement

“you’re out of uniform, commander,” sings
the judge, jury, and oblate prosecution

“excuse me,” describes the witness,
“I thought there was no stalling of the stroke”