Gravel Road

The story of last night's storm still lingers in the air.

The wind is cool, fresh like linens hung out to dry.

Birds chatter, the prairie larkspur rocks in the breeze, and aside from that there is only the crunch,crunch of the gravel beneath my feet.



I have run on these gravel roads before.


They have heard my whispered grievances.
They know I have not loved them; not loved the prairie and the hot sun, the dust and the plain-ness of this land.
These roads know I was glad to leave them for pavement and forests, hills and the lights of a city.

And yet here they are, loyal country roads, mile after square mile, beckoning me to run on them once more with different eyes.

To see the prairie in my childhood dreams,
See the stretched-canvas blue sky in my future and my hopes,
Hear the song of the meadowlark in my children's laughter.

The "who I was" met the "who I am", here on these gravel roads today, and they made friends.