I’ve traveled Route 66
For thousands of miles
While running to
The grocery store,
The laundromat,
The doctor’s office,
Lost in my own worries,
Unable to feel
The history that hums
Through the decaying pavement,
Without any thought
To all those who chased
Their American dreams
Down that winding
Black river of asphalt.
5 comments:
Great job here taking an ordinary, well known activity that has become automatic and then poetically generating it in a new light, one of insight and reflection. Great job. Thanks
I know the feeling, well expressed. "Down that winding black river of asphalt"...great line :)
History is 'humming through' your poem, very nice, Mary.
Isn't that how life can be?....We get so caught up in the everyday....we can forget the big picture....love this post Mary!!
Love this poem, particularly, "history humming"
makes me feel like I'm riding on it right now.
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