The Drive
By Mary Hannington
Cement sprawl scarred by mega highways.
Mountains loom up.
Loom by.
Moving, scraping.
Suddenly dropping to foothills, I fall.
Flat valley.
Dwelling scattered.
Like strewn wreckage.
Rows of workers harvest the fields.
The smell of sea air…
Crashing ocean waves…
Let freedom reign.
I smile and scream BODY SURFING!.
Horses…
Curly bare oaks.
CYPRESS TREES!
A truckload of hay is spraying its load.
Green, green, green.
Spanish moss.
Oh, the colors.
America, this country! Beautiful.
Too fast.
So high.
The mountains move.
Opening up just for me to see.
Tears.
Such joy!
I wish you were here.
This highway is forever and ever.
