Huckleberry on Vacation

Ah, vacation. Sweet purveyor of freedom dreams. Away from the yoke of work and the joke of time. But not the sonnet sequence therein. Number 4 in a continuing series. Or Doris gets her wheat.

My Huckleberry Quality

Their lives are ruined for the territory—
the torrent of inspection leaves them downcast,
always imagining perfection but
discovering Los Angeles instead.
And so they’re stuck between the coast to coast
of supernatural comics and the creature
comforts desired by all. Nebraska ain’t
the place to settle when the reaper calls.
But someone has to live in Sigma Sioux.
Someone has to measure non-existent
circles against an existential crop—
calculate the fault line, from the tipping
point to somewhere near a balance sheet.
And someone has to fill that flaw with wheat.

I'll be greeting you tomorrow from Frenchman Bay. The last Acadian fling for the year.