Crackle and buzz above my head,
Suspended beneath heavy dark clouds
By long wooden stakes stuck into this barren
Scrubby foothill. An unkempt dirt road
Littered with rocks and flanked by brush
Follows parallel columns of these rudimentary behemoths
Bearing lightning on their black strands.
These roads were made for high clearance vehicles
and dirt bikes, not for lunch break hikers
in new work shoes, but I'll plod on
During this stolen hour, watching the clock
And the bushes for the first waking rattlesnakes,
Knowing that I'm not breaking new ground
But still hoping for some hint of discovery
Among the shaggy, sparse fringes of civilization.
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