Promised Land Woods and Blooming Ground Lake between Lord’s Valley
and Lake Wallenpaupack he is lost among the bristling uprights of trees

no map no one to ask only the blur of snowfields solid cloud and a sawtooth
ridge of hills blue in a far-off haze of snow until from the car window he sees

(a moment’s glimpse only) how the clean-etched shapes of a small flock of
wild turkeys humped black among corn stubble in a field of receding snow

is a hieroglyph signifying hunger and satisfaction especially when one lifts its
diminutive head and he sees shining like a newborn the flesh-coloured neck

it’s showing—then nothing but the road known again stretching before him