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.
The Coming of the Toads 