You bend at the bottom of the hill
And curve to the east
Just enough that I can’t see where you go
Anymore than I can see tomorrow
I know where you lead
I know what I will find…
Or do I?
Will the cows be in the field?
Will the deer?
The Canada geese?
What roadkill will cause me to turn my head?
Or crumbling macadam my ankle?
You are both beautiful and treacherous
The 40 mph means 60 to drivers from New Jersey
But I step aside
Onto your steep shoulder
And brush against wild parsnip,
And Queen Anne’s Lace.
I feel the hot wind press against me
As the BMW zooms past
Or the pickup truck
Rattling with rust and loose bolts
You lead me home
No matter which way you go
You bless me with your presence
And your constancy.
Everyone needs a country road.