After too many miles of Interstate tedium

And one decaying tank town

I reach it

Yellow Breeches Creek Road

It follows the creek

Winding without aim

Where some are fishing

Hip deep, brow furrowed

And others loll on the side

Not caring what’s biting

As long as they are there

Those latter will sometimes wave

Tempting me to join their

Joyous indolence

But the next turn is coming up

Hard left the mountain looms

Beyond the farm fields and silos

This road will meander

Past second growth forest

My mind will meander to wonder

Who logged the primeval trees and

What blessing made them stop

The rocks jut from the earth

Stretching to face the sun

They mimic the trees

There it is!

Tucked within the maples and oaks and granite

The stone face of the house

Reflecting the nature of its surroundings

Holding the warmth

Of its occupant

Awaiting me at

The end of my journey