Getting Ahead of Myself
The truck turns into the field.
Tires crunching across frozen mud
remind me that in the summer
this field is green
wet and fresh-smelling tussocky grass
stretching all the way out there
where at the moment
the tires of the truck are
crunching across frozen mud.
skittering in the icy ruts
remind me that I’d better pay attention
It’s not summer now.