The weekend
Is here, nothing scheduled
On purpose
Taking a drive, around
So many curves, winding
Up through the clouds, up
The deepest blue sky, mountain tops
Sky reaching pines, the boys
Singing “Country Roads”
Doughnut sugar stuck
To their cheeks
The parking lot empty, at least
I hope
We are usually the only ones
Who care to explore

Photo By: Carrie

Closed for the season
The car door open, the smells
Fresh, campfire
Pine needles, cool mountain air
I can smell it, without
Actually being there
Silent at first
Until the sounds
The drive percolates out
My ears making room
Real sounds, blue jays
Chipmunks, squirrels
Tree top winds
The occasional wild motorcycle
My boys howl, husband too, understanding
Their place, their voices carry
Briskly through the trees
I am ready
To leave the weeks worries
Down the road
Anticipating the feeling
So good
Let go, let the smells
The pines, carry my load

Please take a moment, comments encouraged.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s