by Justin Evans
One of the last robins of the year
left yesterday, cutting across my
peripheral as I turned into my street
at sunrise, driving east for an appointment
some hours away―both trying
for an early start. I made it there and
back in time for supper, but I worry now
over that bird, wonder if it found safety
in the waning hours of daylight, food
enough for migration, hope with
sunrise as I often do each day I set out―
my way there and back again, the
constant thread I pull when I travel.
About the Author:
Justin Evans was born and raised in Utah. He served in the army and then graduated from Southern Utah University and later the University of Nevada, Reno. He lives in rural Nevada with his wife and sons, where he teaches at the local high school. Justin’s seventh full-length book of poetry, Cenotaph, is being released in March of 2024 from Kelsay Books. He has poems forthcoming from The Meadow, and weber: The Contemporary West. Justin has received two Artist Fellowship Grants from the State of Nevada.