I’ve seen a few things along the road that have stayed with me.
rotting hulk of a once proud man, staggering through a whiskey fog,
trying to make it home before sunset, before the cold dark desert
mistook him for food.
A quilt of rainbows; green corn wrapped in
blue gentian, orange monarchs atop silver seedheads, red leaves covering
yellowed grass, dandelions tickling turtle head snuggling purple
coneflower massaging black hollyhock thrashing Boston ivy which snakes
across my home’s stuccoed façade, smothering its imperfections in
layered emerald chaos.
The flaked husk of a coon who’d found crossing the road not to his liking.
Even the stones along the road are alive, if you pay attention to them.