Moving across the
firmament I chase
a spill of sky painted
across 94E.
Beyond the St. Croix
and River Falls and
its four fireworks stores.
Past geese pulsing
above the highway’s
southbound bend and
sheaths of truckbeds. Until
like a small child tiring
after a tantrum, the gray breaks
and drops its fists of arrows
thundering windshields.
Forgets its billowing skirts
turning earth into rivulets,
and chooses once again
a dress of cotton candy:
blue raspberry.