The Open Road

THE OPEN ROAD

May I sing to you of the open road? Of great forests? The restless sea?
Of endless grasslands and neat plowed fields? And of awed, insignificant me?
Come! Let’s hike on a leaf-roofed path, or a pine-needle carpeted way.
Climb to the top of a beckoning hill, Stay as long as we want to stay.
Let’s stroll on the shore of the Mother of Life and enjoy the sea’s changing blues.
See the scuttling crabs; the grace of the gulls; The shells and their various hues.
Look at the wildflower’s yellow blush, almost hidden in wayside vines.
Take note of the night sky’s winking lights; eternal directional signs.
Hear the calls of birds in flight; the coyote’s lonely howl;
The warning stomp of an anxious deer; the sleepy "Who?" of an owl.
Hear with your heart the rhythm of surf. Feel night’s silence deep in your soul.
Be wooed by the whistle of wayward wind. But, watch out! It might make you whole!
Breathe deeply the odor of cedar. Taste the salt in the seaside spray.
Smell the roses; watch out for the thorns. Taste the ripe wild berries of May.
So, when you start feeling important, like the weight of the world’s on your back,
And the faster you go the behinder you get, break away from the beaten track.
Take a walk or a jog; go ride a bike; row a boat; fly a kite; hop a toad.
Take a flight of fancy, or stowaway, but head for the open road!

Mshr - 1/9/05

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