04-09-2023, 10:27 PM
Route 9 from Harper’s Ferry
On an April eve like this
the road is made for driving,
when a Shenandoah moon
shines low on the horizon.
A “welcome home” aroma
greets me at a country fair;
funnel cakes, cotton candy,
honeysuckle sweetened air.
While crickets chirp and chitter
on discordant singing saws,
old bull frogs belch and bellow
deep mud puddle mating calls.
Threads of silky mist are spun
like fine webs upon the fields;
the spindly, silent spider
lightning crawls across the clouds.
On a country road like this
evening's made for driving,
as flowers fill the distance
between leaving and arriving.
On an April eve like this
the road is made for driving,
when a Shenandoah moon
shines low on the horizon.
A “welcome home” aroma
greets me at a country fair;
funnel cakes, cotton candy,
honeysuckle sweetened air.
While crickets chirp and chitter
on discordant singing saws,
old bull frogs belch and bellow
deep mud puddle mating calls.
Threads of silky mist are spun
like fine webs upon the fields;
the spindly, silent spider
lightning crawls across the clouds.
On a country road like this
evening's made for driving,
as flowers fill the distance
between leaving and arriving.