It seemed like a boat with wheels,
Skimming the hard grey surface
Of the interstate.
We fled in it from one city to another.
I hungrily ate the miles,
Rejoicing in our speed.

But, from the corner of my eye,
I saw the sun glint
Off the dark, green skin of a river.
It flowed toward the road
And then away,
Like the crescent of the moon,
And, lined with trees, it disappeared.
And the rich mystery of it’s coming
And it’s going,
And the darting life beneath the surface,
Drowned my joy.

And we fled
Up the hard, paved road
Without me.

mike frank
© 2006