The Long & Winding Way

Counterbalance

I make capricious
u-turns in the middle of dirt
lanes; a wake of dust trails behind
as I wander back roads
of back woods with
windows rolled
down.

Bending toward
the sun, blades of gold sway
in fields to my left, to my right
roadside weeds flap a
weeping rhythm
against the
door.

The Wind showcases
her fury - fragments of
tin choke trees, cutting into
their dying flesh as she
blows her soft side
through my
hair.

Sulky limbs of trees
hang low over roads like
barren cages of ribs; skeletal
remains on the blacktop
disappear with every
day, every
wheel.

Clouds blow by
shaped like bones of a
fish, some like sails of a ship
as I roam these roads of
decay, yet, from them
I inhale their
life.