On the road again, and on the car radio, another Country Music song: I’m 44 now, soon 45 The way I been livin’ Lucky alive So much has been given And taken away Who knows what will happen Today Late summer, almost fall Red rust brushed peaches Dark dust green grape leaves Swelling purples under blue blouse sky: Woke up this mornin’ Didn’t know where I was Wrote a letter to Heaven, Reachin' out for you But you weren’t there And Heaven didn’t answer either Signs along the road, wood weathered grey, in the Yakima Valley: Antiques Fresh Cherries Walla Walla Sweets Later at the Grey Inn Motel Eating maroon cherries from a bottle Drinking brown beer Thinking one thing is clear and sure: Nighttime falls Lento, Largo, Larghissimo Yes, darkness comes Slow like snows, Like muted yeses, Like mouth harp nos, Like in Country Music songs, Driving through the Yakima Valley. Note (in response to one reader's question): The Country Music song lyrics in the poem are taken from an original song I wrote in 2004. So, no, I didn't hear the song on the radio, though I did often find myself driving through the Yakima valley, and I wrote the song on one my Yakima trips. I've explained the age range used in the song in a comment below.
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