Country road is man’s Pastureland is God’s notion
idea. Construct of inspiration of the heart
the mind. Engineered free and wild and alive
and systematic. endless acres
Direct route. Straight of weeds and wildflowers
and narrow. Solid and wave an invitation
stable and predictable. in the breeze
Fifteen feet of Come
crumbling asphalt. distant rambling fencelines
Measured and aligned. of fir and sugar maple
Black and white. Or and birch
just all gray. Two fat monarchs dragons
strips of old white damsels and bluebottles
paint crumble too. Stay olive crimson and rose
between the lines, away ochre and orchid
from the slippery Gaze
slope. Be safe. Hard rolling swells
and grating. Wearing of matted grass wash
down my sole. Hot and over humps and lumps
dry. I thirst. and hollows of mud
Machines made this road lumpy bed soft and damp
for machines. Machines lie down
bleed drops of motor Rest
oil and grease and rub beside still water
them in. A permanent drink deeply
stain. Winding rivers who is whispering in the trees?
of rubbery tar seal the cicadas buzz raven yells
cracks where winter has mourning dove sighs
tried to take the road Listen
apart and put things slugs and snails
right again. Old Ford and earthworms
pickup roars by. Face out of sight
traffic. Stay at the gray vole slips quietly
edge or die. Roadkill. down his tunnel
Flirt with the grass. in the invisible city
But don’t kiss. Just appearing and disappearing
glance. It’s easier to growing and dying
walk on the road. Feel
Hurry up. Be still
Amen.
And yet the illustration is bigger than this… Pastureland is not God’s only invention. It is not his only mood. Think about islands, oceans, deserts, ice bergs, mountain cliffs, plains, volcanoes, caverns, planets… We look for boundaries between these…. They are there, but they resist simple explanation.
Where exactly does the ocean meet the land? It depends on so many things. Time of day, the wind, the moon, the grains of sand, the child’s sand castle…. Any yet we can say “here”. We lose the truth in the details.