Featured Poem: Road Trip to Trail’s End

By Andrea Jones Walker
Pensacola Branch, Florida

 

Something about a road trip frees the soul,

fills the senses like fresh air in the lungs.

The pavement to Atlanta is in my tires,

they’ve made this trip dozens maybe hundreds of times

yet I’m behind the wheel again

farther this time

to the hills of North Carolina,

Maggie Valley, Hornbuckle Mountain

up winding roads

past brilliant fall leaves of golden maple

red Burning Bush,

speeding along the curves, slowing down the hills

to the gravel roads of Plott Balsam,

Field Mouse Lane and

Trail’s End.

 

My friend greets me, hammer in hand,

from within the walls of the cabin

she’s building,

dusts herself off,

offers me tuna salad and coffee.

We take a break on the deck

and listen to the rushing stream below.

 

Two days and nights in the woods

on the mountainside pass quickly.

 

There is a silence before dawn

when the sky is slate gray

before the November sun sets the treetops on fire,

a silence born of solitude

palpable, wrapping itself around me,

the Unmistakable Presence.

 

When I leave, a grouse scurries

across the road in front of me

into the woods.

The silence and solitude follow me

in the hours driving home, still free,

the trees now greener

the air farther south balmier—

home.

 

 

Comments

  1. I love this poem! It speaks volumes of places visited and places that bring peace! We all need to find those places whether in the mountains of by the sea! Finding them and enjoying them brings comfort in a time where everything seems so unsettling!

  2. Dorothy Kamm says

    I like the content and imagery. Your poem tempts me and makes me look forward to taking a road trip sometime in the future.

  3. Carole Mertz says

    This is a particularly satisfying and restorative poem during our peculiar present times. Thank you so much!