John J. Uskert

MY INDIANA (poetry)

My commute, Fishers to Elwood, is a glorious routine.

Dawn exacts the darkness, revealing the uninvited visitor; trees, drawn and barren,

stand at attention respectful of my commute.  Adorned, uniquely and exquisitely,

with ice crystals, sentinel branches glisten with flair of the Author.

Jubilee! Spring erupts boundlessly; fertile land, tilled, groomed. 

Shoots of tender green, lined to fields end: nature’s bounty.

Stewards of the land, annual risk offset by eternal hope, in part, rely on Boilers' agri-science, but are wholly subservient to the measure of God’s providence.

My faithful sentinels, now cloaked with lush regalia, team with creatures in heat and humidity of the Indiana summer.  Potentially crippling to mere mortals, stalks stand erect, nearly mature.

Multi-hued patterns, aerially, encompass metropolitan Indianapolis.

The stewards’ crops derived full benefit from God’s abundant gifts.

Attestation of fall, activity escalates; nature’s produce and miraculous bounty of this fly-over state, harvested, is shared with east coast, west coast, the world.

 The productive Indiana earth anticipates the respite of dormancy and rejuvenation

before nature’s life cycle begins once again.

Timely and joyously, a teen shoots hoops at a basketball goal mounted to the west side of the generational family barn.  It is October, basketball season nears.

My daily commute is a glorious routine in my Indiana.