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.