On each side
of the country road
Lean tall
old trees far into their shadows
And you feel
a desire to turn off
Into the
landscape of yourself,
To the end
of a road that never ends…
And all that
solitude yours.
Go deeper,
to where fence posts end,
Beyond the
rusted out car
Idling in a
wilderness of vines,
Where farm
land becomes meadow and woodlot
And the
meadowlark is a clear song
Of space and
light.
There the
footings of a house
Fill with field
grass and flower
Like a house
built by rain
And shining
through itself
A wild barn
becomes a holy place.
The deep
rustling of the trees
And swaying
shadows on the road
Call us from
our destination
To a
landscape beyond highways
And the nowhere
of being lost.
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