Walking to my car with my keys in one hand and my coffee in the other,
Birds flying high above, dogs barking in the background,
I open the door and climb into the driver’s seat for a ride to the country.
Engine starts with a roar; radio comes alive with my favorite song.
Placing the car into drive I start rolling down the road,
For a destination unknown, just looking towards the feel of the road.
City streets are behind me,
no buildings beside me,
just the open road in front of me,
and fields that surround me.
I look off into the distance and see an old barn,
Faded red paint and walls that are leaning oh so much,
I wonder how it looked many years ago when it was built.
Imagining the stories that the old barn could tell,
The farmer tending to his cattle, chickens, and such,
His wife in the house making dinner for her family,
While the sons help their father clean out the stalls,
What a life that would have been, I ponder as I drive by.
Further down the road as I drive,
To a lovely meadow with tall grass bowing to the gentle breeze,
Revealing a fawn and her mother as they walk through to the small creek.
My mind begins to fill with images of a time long ago,
With an encampment of Indians enjoying their lives,
No car, nor radios, no phones of any sort to disrupt the peace and quiet of this little meadow.
A hunter comes back to camp with his game on his shoulder,
The children rush to his side to hear of the great hunt,
Oh, what a simple life that they must have had,
With no stressful modern life looming over their heads.
Before I realize it, the peaceful little drive is over,
With a ring from my cell phone, the images of the past start to vanish.
They disappear in a flash as the modern world interrupts.
