I certainly hope you have a favorite road! Maybe you only traveled down it once, or maybe it is really just a path, or an idea, but you should have one.
My parents taught me to distrust the interstate, so I end up on small roads a lot, often slightly lost, and those roads leads to things like ferry boats, dead ends, and long, sloping downhills towards good light.
Let's write about favorite roads. Here is mine:
It was... Ohio?
Kind of lost, but not really
We never really were.
Now you go! Make it 5 syllables/7 syllables/5 syllables, and don't be shy!
Oak tree canopy
ReplyDeleteMoon illuminates the hills
Lights off. I dare you...
Iowa gas station
ReplyDeleteMoved the car, you didn't know...
Moment of panic.
Many favorites.
ReplyDeleteRoad to Leroy this week,
was Life renewing
Dappled, sunlit, trees,
ReplyDeletehayfields, rolling hills, horses,
wildflower meadows
Buzzards on thermals
Fog hangs on the horizon
The one that leads home
Sunshine, breeze, top down
ReplyDeleteCows by the side of the road
Warm hand on my thigh.
Houston's Kuykendahl:
ReplyDeleteNot a fave (too much traffic),
just fun to say it.
Dirt road, West Texas.
ReplyDeleteA trail of memories that
Always takes me home.
“All America
ReplyDeletelies at the end of the
wilderness road,”
(from Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry)
Gravel covered drive
ReplyDeletedisappears into the woods
Mysteries unfold
For Larry Reynolds Who Lead Us--
ReplyDeleteOh cottages! your
Bones unburied grace her sides.
Green fields give her life.
The fairy tree who
Sprung up in her middle,yet,
Cut to civilize.
The busman tenor
Singing in request,whose heart
Would break if he did not,
Taking us to that boat,
which took us to Inish Mor,
To feast on saints and sea.
Christine--Astonishing! Congratulations,dear! I liked diadelkendall's work and also seraphim. Nice work,People!
ReplyDeleteIt was called Muse Road
ReplyDeleteAnd she surely sang to us
Carried by an old
Jalopy...'49 Dodge
Sleek,rounded in a blaze of dust
Rising smoked gravel.
My daddy drove his
John Deere down it,field to field.
We walked barefoot in
Desert heat and marvelled
At how anything could grow
There. No rain.Hot sun.
But irrigation made
The Columbia mother
Potatoes and wheat.
And I wrote songs of
Praise and grew unafraid of
Nature.Grew to wonder.