Country Roads
Country Roads
There’s nothing like a walk in the Fall,
down country roads, her shoulders bearing
old Goldenrod tall, or stopping at Elder Berry bushes
covered in blue, laden with bunches of berries full,
or having four tow headed kids in line to laugh
and run, play around in the warm sun.
Or watching the cows getting their fill of fallen apples
up on the hill, or slipping over to the Elder Berries
and having a snack there, too.
Or grabbing a handful of berries to chew, then show
your purple lips and teeth when through. There’s
nothing like a walk on a country road,
To kick a few loose stones up the road, to dig in
the cat tail pond now dry, and to smell the crisp
cool air and see the clear blue sky.
The sugar maples now changing color,
the brilliant reds, the rusty browns,
the golden oaks, the dirty browns.
Quaking Aspens now golden yellows while
Larch trees dropping their needles in Fall.
No, there is nothing like a walk on country roads.
The last Chicory blooming in blue,
LOOK OUT kids, for Burdock is getting
ready to spill, those ratty catchers over your clothes
then combing them out of kids hair, the cat
coming home carrying a load of Burdock burrs in her fur.
There’s nothing like talking a walk in the Fall,
a warm sun on the back of my neck,
the kids sunny smiles, impish laughter they utter,
to stop by their frog pond and reminisce about gobs
of polliwogs and little red newts, no, there is nothing
like a walk in the Fall.
bentfeather
September 27. 2005
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