A Poem for You til I Finish my Mull...

Photo courtesy of J Brunsetter @ aol.com.

As I read other friend’s blogs today, it got me thinking about the world and why we allow it to be the way it is. I am still mulling over some ides for a future blog write, so to give you something to read today here is a poem from my college Honor’s Project Highway and Hindsight


Amish Mystery

Night coming on fast,
in the Ohio February way,
winter rain, beating
to get in the car,
slaps the windshield
as loudly as the wipers.
Once more I was driving
north on 661. Reflecting off
the damp air, my headlights
illuminate little,
except the reflective triangle
on the Amish buggy up ahead.
Homer, the sign reads in green.
I slow to the next sign's forty-five,
turn my head to see why the buggy
is stopped, strain to see, perhaps
sickness, the rain too hard for horses?
As the father waits under the buggy's
canopy, a girl, his daughter, stands feeding
coins into a red and white Coke machine.


A good example of my stilted line I talked about in yesterday’s post.

And of course here’s the poser (an Jim P called him) Jake Jyllenhall waiting for me in the door of my bedroom….