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Lunch-time Stroll
by Dawn Coutu

Where clover dew stays smooth and undisturbed,
I rest my head for a few hours before
sauntering back to city work. I cross my fingers

reclining on grass-covered mounds that I do not have to
trudge back to work. But, hour-rung bells alarm me,
as time draws near and I must place curled toes

into socks and plaid socks into shoes, which will transport
me back to my city-box. But for now, I hope my wriggling
toes will not crush a tunneling mole. I will step

on his path crossing mine,
and still
will fail to get to work on time.