Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

One More for the Road

Feathery Indigo clouds on horizon
Suspended over black ribbon highway
Tendrils of misty droplets hanging in milky fronds
Curling toward dark green trees
Snowy fleece of cirrus with patches of teal sky overhead
Jet-black road stretching out ahead
Returning from the verdant kudzu covered hills
Of sleepy St. Francisville

Where our feet carried us to Mississippi River vista
Green shrubbery blanketed over sunken bluffs
Rusted warehouses below our perch
River boat horn resonated through quiet evening
Cardinal swooped out of foliage, below
Arcing gracefully back into thicket

You sat on foliage matted steps by my side
We had passed through the years like this
Finding silent moments to ease each other
Your sigh deep as the impending night
Our closeness a second nature
Tinctured by your detached gaze
Tentative romance resurrected
With shared dreams of future happiness
Whispered amongst dusk sounds

Golden eternity imagined in this sanctuary of peace
Beyond the reach of urban hustle
The rustle of leaves in warm breeze
And saffron sunset clouds
Your hand warm in my palm
Like a tiny sparrow
With your delicate and reassuring touch
The goodness of the earth
Felt deeply in this encounter with you
Your lush love lavished
In the waning magic
Of ardor's smoldering embers

this poem has the flow of the road and the colors of a special relationship, steeped in the lushness of rural america in all her glory...
you somehow seamlessly tie it all together as you take the reader along with you for the ride....enjoyed this, john

Saw, I love your take on this poem. I love road poems and books. Seems like I spent most of the last twenty years on the road to somewhere. Thank you dear sir for such a great articulation of what I tried to make this poem. It means a lot to me.

John

Our closeness a second nature
Tinctured by your detached gaze

wow!

Arcadia, thanks for reading.

John

too bad we can't stop time or even slow it down...we're left with trying to catch those moments in a bottle or paint their picture.

-mb

nicely painted, John. painterly. tactile.

Mb, I often wish I could be in a time warp, like Vonnegut's "Time Quake" repeating the seventies over and over.

Mnaz, I like that word "tactile". Thanks for reading.

John