A Sign the Size of a Jeep
For five days now, it has sat
Black and gray, reflecting heat
Actually, a very nice Jeep
With expired tags, rumpled bookbags
Yet nobody has moved it from my house
For five days now
As I surmise, with my poet's eyes
Journeys of flattened grass, of dusty glass
A map discarded, a gypsy started
A young soul seeking adventure's answers
To grow into futures of unlined space
Or older hearts, chasing the chase
The remembered rush of chances to take
As a new wind erases
The years from their faces
Perhaps a journal, sketching a desert dawn
Or moon rippled seas, or fragrant rain
Calling them forward to green spun lanes
Oh, there could be hours to ride
Mountains to taste, moments to cry
(Dear Muse, have you been so obscure
that I needed a sign - the size of a Jeep
blocking my front door?)
Now I, shaken at last from lethargy
To pick up my pen, should perhaps thank them~
Before I have their car towed.
6/29/22
(true story)
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2022
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