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)