Thursday, March 21, 2019

A Short Poem Describing A Couple's Search For The Best American Brewery of 2016. by Robert Halleck

Outside Morrisville the GPS lost the signal
as we entered Vermont's Northeast Kingdom.

We continued with dead reckoning.  A misty
rain fell outside Greensboro Bend where we
stopped to ask directions. Go down the road

turn left on Taylor, right at the flat, don't
give up. The old farmhouse appeared out

of the drizzle. Tall windows, steel vats,
brew masters working in white suits.
We opened the weathered white doors, shook

away the rain drops and entered. An hour later
we left with two growlers of Hill Farmstead's IPA

clutched to our breasts like the last candy
in the Easter basket.    

Robert Halleck's work has appeared in over 40 poetry journals, magazine, and annuals in the last few years. Recently his poems have appeared or will appear in the San Diego Poetry Annual, The Paterson Literary Review, The St. Ann's Review, Third Wednesday, Chiron, and The Mockingheart Review. He is a member of San Diego's Not Dead Yet Poets and is a regular attendee of the Kenyon Review's Summer Workshops.

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