Diana's Writing Blog

I like to drive
On deserted back roads that are cracked
And frayed at the edges,
Like the pages of a beloved book.
Roads that are so old that time and nature
Have ground them back into the earth,
Breaking them down in places,
Reducing them
Back to their basic components, undoing
What man has created.

Roads where speed limits and stop
Signs are meaningless
Suggestions made by authorities who will never drive
Those winding back roads and will never
Enforce those arbitrary limits.
Where there are no rules
But the ones that I make
For myself. Where no one can decide
That I’m going too slow or too fast.

Roads where no other cars will be
In front of me or behind me or beside me.
Where the only things around
Me are silent crowds of watchful trees,
Some tall and leaning, as if peering
Down and musing at my lone
Little car, others standing short and
Straight, turning their youthful
Energies upwards, more interested
In the boundless sky.

Where the only being that I might encounter
Is a lone deer, crossing the road
Who will be so startled that she is not
The only one for miles and miles
That she will pause
And stare, contemplating me in my little car
Before continuing on her way.