By John Ziegler

On the 40 through southeast California,
the brown Sierra Nevada,
and stretches of dry sand
and toasted sagebrush.

White wind turbines in the distance
a dozen here, two dozen there,
two hundred on the hilltop
slow roll in the wind.

I’m flying at 80 in the 70 zone,
Brubeck playing “Take Five”,
the sky a soft blue,
just thirty miles west of Needles

where I’ll drive 95 north to the old west town
of Oatman where donkeys roam free in the streets
and on the boardwalks,
with their heads in the doorway of the watermelon stand.

John Ziegler is a poet and painter living in a small mountain town in Northern Arizona. 

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