It’s election time.
Posters of candidates
along the road,
under the bridge,
across from the gas station.
I see them
perfectly nestled
among the dandelions,
the clover,
the wild mustard,
the daisies,
the brome grass,
the chicory,
and half a dozen other weeds
I am unable to name.
(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)
