Patricia Budd
Overpass
Painters thumb-measure
shadowed stone arches
between granite pillars.
Children race rail to rail,
peer beneath at rushing water.
Lovers stroll in step past
the balustrade where
the widow’s hand rests.
His had been just there
when they set pooh-sticks
in the rushing current,
divined a future she recalls
as, unseen, yesterday floats
below steady foot traffic.
Patricia Budd retired as a professional computer engineer, moved to Portland, Maine and
decided to indulge her lifelong addiction to writing. She received her MFA from Stonecoast in
July of 2006. Since then her poems have been in MARGIE and Alehouse among other journals.
She has two sons, three grandchildren, and a theoretical physicist husband who plays bridge.
The husband is not theoretical, the physics is...
Home
Issue Three
Overpass
Painters thumb-measure
shadowed stone arches
between granite pillars.
Children race rail to rail,
peer beneath at rushing water.
Lovers stroll in step past
the balustrade where
the widow’s hand rests.
His had been just there
when they set pooh-sticks
in the rushing current,
divined a future she recalls
as, unseen, yesterday floats
below steady foot traffic.
Patricia Budd retired as a professional computer engineer, moved to Portland, Maine and
decided to indulge her lifelong addiction to writing. She received her MFA from Stonecoast in
July of 2006. Since then her poems have been in MARGIE and Alehouse among other journals.
She has two sons, three grandchildren, and a theoretical physicist husband who plays bridge.
The husband is not theoretical, the physics is...
Home
Issue Three
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Chickenpinata
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