A blue barn
guards the road
with white washed beauty.
I struggle not to look too long.
 
If I close my eyes,
I will miss the roadside show—
the all-things-blooming film
that passes like silk ribbon
outside the window.
 
Circles of plow trails
leave a snake's zig zag path—
the testing of pen ink swirls
in grass so green
even the pond frogs are jealous.
 
This barren road
has a life beyond where
ten gallons of gas will take me.
 
What if I stop the car—
refuse to go any further?
What if I park
and walk up to that blue barn—
sit up against its splintered history
for a quiet afternoon of field gazing,
while the hood of the car steams
in the mid-July sun?

This poem first appeared in Amnesia and Awakenings (Local Gems Press, 2016)
Used here with the author's permission.