Old Dirt Road

I feel like an old dirt road,
furrowed and forgotten,
unworthy of paving stones.

Where do I lead?
Where do I go?

Step lightly, padding feet,
footfalls, fleet,
trace the hills
and step between
the desert-cracks,
seared by the drying heat.

A child’s dirty feet,
born of the country,
shuffle slightly,
as he sips the nectar…

the kind hummingbirds
flitting to-and-fro,
are excited to eat.

They hum their prayers
as they pray to the feast.

Honey to suckle,
bees-to-breeze,
please be pleased
by the honey, teased,
wind-borne, from the wings
of hummingbirds

and bees.

I feel like an old dirt road,
but if you follow me,

I will
unroll,
unfurl,
and unfold

into these things.


© CG Tenpenny, 2021.

2 thoughts on “Old Dirt Road

  1. This is so good! What a clever idea and you wrote it masterfully. Honestly, I prefer old dirt roads to new paved ones every day of the week. Hell, I LIVE out an old dirt road.

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