The Miles

there's a trench that cuts through a large patch of farmland - 

halfway then to Exit 41

and a place

the miles stay the same

but we change

The land hardly notices us pass by

amorous and expectant

compelled and burdened

taxed and relieved  

driving towards Greencastle for a love affair

to be known and to know

that when we cease our keeping

we are kept

by grand, lofty particulars

of heritage and memories

so says Chesterton

I hear

the dark friendliness of a pioneer bridge

wrought by hand

of fallen timber

 triumphing a small river

of cornstalks knee high

and fireflies over tall grass

and gravel

and an amber light in a farm house

beneath a cemetery with oak trees and pansies laid to rest

we gave each other music when it all began

to pass the miles,

spilling from our open windows

hurtling down the highway 

and through the back way home

swallows now circle the fields to collect their keep,

following the mower's wake

that wakes life from the grass

hostas in bloom

with daylilies 

popping forth

along trenches

to line these miles

beauty and fragility

seasonal triumphs 

of a place

and a reminder of longing

and the deepest gladness of procreation

giving life

birthing

a family

through the miles

to a place

where a name carries history

and peace

that we need not

drive miles

and canvass the land

we are home

~Wes