The road to I love you
Seems longer than that
Or sometimes brutal and short across deserted flats
Turning into all day sweating in the poison chair
Wishing for the open road’s unchainedness
For that place to walk lost mountains
For that place to pause and feel
Cool breezes, identify the birds
In the unknown trees, to come into
That narrow lane lined with fuchsias
Where the sound of the surf
Leads me on and on and on
The high sun burns and blesses in its course
And the little creek runs alive along the path
But directionless, I wander a road that barely seems
A road, ending somewhere I don’t quite imagine
But seems to start at thank-you.
Author: Duncan MacNae
Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees.
duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com
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