A Woodsy Appeal


I drive these back roads…

And,

am,

reminded of home.

Long, desperate, going places that have passed along.

Gritty browns with nameless…greens.

A picturesque, quaint, scene.

 

Of course,

I have aged like farm-stand cheddar.

Tart but tasteful. with a woodsy trace.

Though life has sped up.

I manage to find a slower pace.

 

In a quest for deeper appreciation…

I delve further.

Windows down…

Listening for a weathered sound.

 

There are no wrong turns…

In my veiled valleys.

Just moss under my wheels.

And, a love for nature’s folly.

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