The Road Home


Pavement ends and dust begins,
solitude is never convenient.
Pot-holed, narrow road,
blackberries reclaim what once was their territory,
Duck couples bob and paddle in ruts
made by exploring 4×4’s,
alders reach to conceal telephone poles
drunkenly following the narrow trail
that leads us home.

©Sharron R. McMillan Excerpt from “A Poet Lives Here”

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