the road is straight
just off a divided highway
past suburbs
butted up against
working farms
through a little village
down past a cemetery
a horse farm or two
then some open
wind swept fields
the road narrows
the pavement stops
gravel and rutted dirt
right up to
a rusted dead end sign
keep going
the road dwindles
to a winding path
almost overgrown
under a tarp
by a cedar fence
a small red canoe
I push it out
into the creek
paddle a few strokes
drift with the mallards
I so loved taking this little jaunt with you, along the roads, past the farms, to the canoe and into the water with the mallards. Just lovely.
ReplyDeleteThis has a beautiful Robert Frost vibe. A red canoe to paddle and drift before you sleep. You are getting very, very skilled at these poems!! Really digging them!
ReplyDeleteLoved it... the build up to the desolate scene and then the sheer movement and joy of drifting with the mallards.. wonderful!
ReplyDeleteOllie,
ReplyDeleteReads like an invitation to explore that area. Peacefulness and full of observational details :)
loved this and i liked how it drew me in. i especially like the small red canoe - perhaps all our futures are found there - Well done
ReplyDeleteBeautifully penned
ReplyDeletePushing and paddling the red canoe and at last drifting with the mallards is joyful indeed.
ReplyDeleteI can see that little red boat being launched by the Tired Monk! Always so peaceful, reading you, Ollie.
ReplyDelete