The wind choreographs cold rain
a neon orange flag, torn newspaper
and tumbleweeds two stepping along a wire fence.
They rock side-to-side, roll, unsure
which one of them should lead.
We are again faced with the same mystery,
wondering who will lead this red, white and blue nation.
Tires splash a chh, chh, chh through puddles.
Hearts are split into donkeys and elephants
create an opening large enough to swallow friendships.
The earth debates, too!
Fingers of green split dirt in my barren January garden.
Yesterday it was eighty.
Today the temp crashed to thirty five.
How can a body not succumb to fever and flu?
How can a country not be sick with fear?
Coughing, I use a broken limb—
force those tumbleweeds forward,
make them move beyond complacency.