by Rachel Belth

She lingers on the road, does not
rush off at the last moment like a squirrel
nor lead her young across
in an efficient line like a mallard. No,

she stands her ground

and hisses at oncoming
traffic. Why the road and not
the clover along the side? Why go
to all this trouble? To reach the mulberries

trampled on the asphalt.

Image by Matthis via Pixels