On Crossing American Legion Bridge, 2007
No easel could withstand the steady stream
of cars, the city's rush as sky shakes out
its spattered tarp of dawn. The drivers yawn,
few glancing down to the Potomac's path
below where water surges toward DC.
Jammed, they must wait, then inch along concrete,
commute the edge of repressed scenery.
The picture stands without Monets, Van Goghs
or me to replicate the colors bled,
the tense beauty of morning. Honking cars,
radio tower, chimneys, oaks, and jets,
their trails fuming all our earthly stress.
Dear God! that rip, that breathy, vapor line
an engine draws across the changing light.