Road Well-Kept

Concrete lanes going north ribbon themselves past barns and fields and small towns. A talk show interview plays on the radio, saying everyone has a story to tell. This morning a ghost of a passing moon hangs to the west, holding onto dreams. As I drive, I feel I’m in some kind of dance with friends of the past and friends of now. All I have to do is to pull to the side, close my eyes and watch the planets and stars dance beyond the blue. This land bears its history of prairies and forests cleared, of natives gone. Just before the turn off, ponds shimmer under the sun, giving a moment’s peace. Just beyond, some other people to greet, memories to envision another day. travels luminate landscapes of my many lives reflections of time