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.
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.
Thank you! The idea took me back to childhood. Warm memories.