Traveler
I know parts of this nation
On its roads and highways
In some shaded forests
The paths were not beaten
Except by me often alone
This desire to move there
Here and there any there
Is strongest when movement
Is no longer possible
When age’s match just smokes
Roads rattle me even on trips
To get groceries from a store
Just a short mile away
Then the urge to go farther
Belittles these baby steps
I think of South Dakota
Where I was born
Only to leave over issues
Cloudy and full of lightning
Prairie worms easily pass
Surprised as the flash
Strikes the far hills
Ì dream of riding that
Stalk of light and noise
In it's short and sudden life
Barry G. Wick
2 comments:
Great poem Barry. Jim Anderson
Thanks Jim for being a reader
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