somewhere, a landscape lies—
of lime-green fields of soybeans,
of oak trees that line roads,
of nearby hills and mountains beyond,
of hint of sun. but i see none of it,
fog having its way over earth today,
making me work for a view, til i
realize that fog takes my imagination
on a ride—creates softer mountains to climb,
to know off my porch deer nibble
on soybeans at arm’s length,
and hope lands on my shoulders,
its belly full of bright yellow.
2024 Winning Submission for Penned: Poetry